Just Desserts
by scifiromance
Summary: Still occupied with worries of her time on Ledos, and other things besides, Seven heads to the Mess Hall for a distraction in the middle of the night, it's just that Chakotay has the same idea. Thankfully, Neelix can handle both of them, and it ends up going further than even he starts to suspect... Immediately post 'Natural Law', S7xE21. C/7. Extended from one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.**

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"Can I be of assistance Mr Neelix?"

Neelix jumped out of his skin, completing a precarious pirouette on the narrow step of his stepladder as he jerked towards the speaker. The hand straining towards the back wall of his pantry was hurriedly yanked back to grip the shelf for balance. "Seven!" he exclaimed exuberantly.

"I apologise for startling you…" Seven began with a self-conscious frown, worriedly reaching out to steady him.

"Nonsense!" Neelix repudiated firmly, clapping his hands on her shoulders as much as in reassurance and welcome as for balance. "I'm relieved to see you back safe and well! Quite a change of plans from attending a conference, but you certainly had an experience…"

"Yes." Seven confirmed with the ghost of a thoughtful smile. "We did." We? She started at her slip of the tongue. While she knew Chakotay would not argue that the experience with the Ventu had affected him, he'd likely say so with pride, she also knew that their time on the planet had proven his attitudes (predominately) correct, while hers had changed a great deal. She should not assume anything about what he'd drawn from it. Pushing these uneasy thoughts aside, she glanced up towards the shelves. "Can I be of assistance?" she repeated.

Neelix glanced up at the shelves, then down at his feet on their awkward perch, then finally at the tall ex-drone. "Well…yes, actually." He admitted with a smile, hopping down from the steps in relief. "Thank you."

"Of course." Seven replied, smoothly taking only on step up before easily reaching back. "What do you require?"

"Dried Leola root." Neelix answered, "The last of my fresh supply went into lunch's spinach and Leola ravioli and the next batch isn't ready to be harvested for another ten days or so. But the dish went down so well I need to be ready to serve it up again. Fresh is always preferable but…"

Seven hesitated, unsure whether the crew would thank her as readily as Neelix for providing him with Leola root, but she'd already located the container. "This ravioli variation proved popular?" She checked, unable to quite contain her eyebrow's rise, half sceptical and half amused, as she handed him his favourite ingredient.

"Oh yes!" Neelix enthused, then, with a wry dash of self-awareness, added, "Of course, the crew always eat more when they're worried. It's my job to provide them with fuel and a friendly ear. I had the Maquis all congregated in here earlier, strategizing how to get that barrier down over mugs of coffee and bowls of my ravioli…"

Seven winced. "I'm sorry they were left in such a position as to fear…"

Neelix gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "It's natural Seven." He reminded her. As integrated and familial as Voyager was now, the Maquis were still a clannish sort, and Chakotay was a Prince among them. Any threat to him led to anxious huddles around his tables. "And the whole crew was concerned, about both of you." He smiled kindly, "I'm sure the Maquis will be toasting your ability to bring down the shield, just after ribbing Chakotay for crashing another shuttle if I know them." He chuckled.

"Perhaps." Seven stepped down abruptly and retreated back. She couldn't imagine the Maquis celebrating her role in anything, though the resurgence of jokes about Chakotay's shuttle record, such a long-standing source of humour that even she was aware of it, was inevitable.

Neelix only gave his head the slightest of shakes before deftly changing the subject as he set the precious Leola root aside. "Now that you've helped me restock, let's see what I can rustle up for you, hmm?" He cast his usual mildly concerned, paternal eye over her slender frame. She looked tense and tired.

"I ate dinner with the Captain and Commander Chakotay." Seven informed him.

Neelix's split second grimace verged on comical, but he was too gracious to say anything about the Captain's cooking. "Well, a debriefing is always improved with a meal." He said diplomatically, "The Captain will have gone to special effort to see that you're both alright after almost losing you, but are you sure I can't interest you in a very late supper, or a midnight snack?"

"My nutritional intake has been sufficient…" She caught Neelix's eye, "I managed to intervene somewhat in the Captain's preparations." The Talaxian chuckled warmly and she echoed him with a quieter laugh of her own before sobering. "I did not come here intending to eat…I am having some difficulty regenerating."

Neelix nodded, at once understanding. "It can be a little difficult to readjust to Voyager after any time away." He cleared his throat, "Or at least it's that way for me." He glanced at Seven, concerned she'd prickle at the smallest implication she wasn't 'adapting', but she gave a simple nod of agreement. Unlike some, he'd never really had any expectation of how quickly she should adapt to Voyager. It likely helped that they'd never had reason for as much as a cross word, but he'd never let her general abrasiveness worry him. The rudeness that had been such a talking point that first year or so had always struck him as a defence mechanism. He thought too much of her intelligence to not see that at least part of it had been on purpose, an attempt to hold on to some sense of control and superiority by wrong-footing those around her, and the rest of it had likely been rooted in very human anger and resentment as much as Borg upbringing. Now that things had settled down, so much more shone through the barriers, and what had been a hard Borg shell was perhaps only a veil of human guilt, uncertainty and self-consciousness. But he'd never seen the point of pushing. She was due as long as she needed to find her feet after what she'd been through, in his humble opinion. Then again, Voyager made such demands of everyone… "Chakotay wouldn't agree with me on this…" He thought he saw Seven start slightly at the name, "…but I'll suggest the traditional human remedy of warm milk?" He saw her hesitate, rein in a grimace, and smiled, "Or maybe some chamomile tea?"

"I am not fond of either." Seven confided. As far as she could recall, she hadn't even liked milk much as a child, unless it was a strawberry milkshake, which was an entirely different proposition anyway. As for tea, she'd tried multiple varieties when she'd been matching beverages to meals she'd prepared, but she'd never reconciled her taste buds to chamomile. She wasn't even sure if its sleep assisting properties would have any effect on an ex-done struggling to regenerate. Neelix wouldn't bring up such a difference. "Though I appreciate the offer." She looked around the darkened and otherwise empty Mess Hall. "You were obviously preparing to retire to your quarters, you should…"

"It takes me a long time to wind down after any excitement." Neelix interrupted firmly, "So don't worry about me."

A short sigh escaped Seven's lips before she pursed them wearily. "It would appear that we have that trait in common." It would've been alien to the Collective, this tendency to ponder events that had concluded. Any occurrence was analysed for useful tactical information and then dismissed, only ever drawn on when required. It was efficient. It was clean. It was as impossible for her to do now as it would've been to consider unresolved _emotion_ in the Hive Mind.

"Caring isn't a bad trait, the furthest thing from it!" Neelix pointed out with deceptive lightness, "Even if it means we hang on to worry longer than some would consider necessary." He shook his head, thoughts of Kes flashing through his memory, and realising at the same time that his worry over her wasn't nearly as prevalent as it once had been. He refocused on Seven, pulling out an encouraging smile for her. "Take a seat. I'll find something here that'll make us both go to bed, or to regenerate, happy."

Seven hesitated, but the conflict that passed over her face was brief; a small but warm smile slowly dawned as her head made its habitual dip. "As you wish."

"I do wish." The Talaxian reiterated, gently ushering her towards the nearest table before ducking eagerly back into the galley.

Seven sagged into the chair, but caught herself and soon perched more rigidly on the edge. Her elbow rested on the table though, and soon her chin was in her hand, the fingers occasionally moving to massage the constant dull ache around her brow, needling behind her eyes. She winced as she remembered the Doctor buzzing around her when she'd reported to Sickbay, carrying the medkit that had been beamed down. The Doctor had scanned her from 'top to toe' but they'd both known his immediate focus was on her cortical node, specifically the failsafe component within. She'd gathered from his sigh of relief that nothing was amiss, though the breath caught in her own throat as he'd run the scan had served as a pointed reminder that she'd worried it would be. Though Chakotay had only been on the next biobed, the Doctor had only been able to restraint his frustration enough to keep his petulant hisses about 'risk-taking' and 'unsanctioned away missions' by her ear. She'd never been more grateful that Chakotay was polite and would never eavesdrop, as well as having only average hearing. She didn't bother to remind him that he'd enthusiastically. pushed her to accept the unsolicited invitation to the conference. It had been wrong of her to omit that Chakotay had offered to take her. In her own defence, she hadn't known of that offer when she'd agreed to go. To rescind her agreement as soon as Chakotay had spoken up, smiling at her, would've been mortifying and exposing…

Yet really, all she'd been unequivocally thankful for in that moment was that the girl had not required treatment in Sickbay. That her injures had been minor enough to be successfully treated…by the hand that had inadvertently caused them. One of the central things this incident had brought home to her the importance of the Prime Directive. As much as she'd quoted it to Chakotay, she'd almost been ready to cast it off upon hearing the Ledosians' promises that the lives of the Ventu could be enhanced through assimilation into the planet's dominant culture. She shuddered. If the girl, or any of the Ventu, had been exposed to wider Ledos or Voyager, they would've lost something. As bright and curious and full of potential as they were, it would've been too much to process without damage. If anyone knew about the impossibility of totally reintegrating with your own society after being abruptly disconnected from it, it was a former Borg drone.

A former Borg drone who could've easily had more blood on her hands if that guileless girl hadn't been lucky, and could still if the Ledosians had scanned the deflector… She tried to cut the thought off. They'd had to get back to Voyager…get home. With the Captain and Tom's help, they'd managed to preserve the Ventu's home as much as they could. Chakotay had been right, not just consoling her.

"I heard you made a friend down there." Neelix had popped back up from behind the galley counter. "It must've been hard to say goodbye."

Seven looked across at him, smiling faintly. If assimilation hadn't proved that Talaxians did not possess empathic ability that was beyond the average in sentient humanoids, humans included, she would've attributed it to Neelix. She still did. "Yes, she was my friend." She hadn't known her name, and had had so little in common, but she had undoubtedly been a friend all the same. "Leaving was…bittersweet." She conceded thoughtfully, not missing how Neelix's expressive amber eyes widened in surprise at the admission. "The Ventu group we encountered were remarkable. I am relieved we were able to reinstate the shield."

"Yes…" Neelix agreed with a slight grimace. "It doesn't seem like they would've appreciated their neighbours like you did. They turned on us quickly enough when things didn't go their way."

"Indeed."

"But I'm sure there would've been a few voices of reason." Neelix amended, never willing to believe the worst. "Ledosians who would see what you and Chakotay saw, a people and an environment to be treasured." He smiled wistfully, but it was rapidly tinged with regret. "Although it seems, more often than not, that people don't see what they have until it's gone."

"I believe you're right." Seven replied sombrely.

"Speaking of what's gone…it seems to include most of my dessert supply…" Neelix began in a vexed tone, glaring into his nearly bare cupboards.

"Really Neelix, it…"

"Don't even think about saying it's irrelevant Seven." He cut her off, only half teasing. "I promised us a treat while we chat…" His whiskers started to wilt in disappointment, but suddenly his eyes lit up and he plunged an arm into his small chilled cabinet. "Aha!"

Seven muffled a chuckle behind her hand. "Yes, Neelix?"

"I completely forgot that I'd made this!" Neelix exclaimed, seemingly astounded. "And I put so much effort into getting it right too! You see, Crewman Chan was saying how the replicator never gets it _quite_ right, so I…"

"And what is this exactly?" Seven interrupted.

"Pudding!" Neelix answered with a bright grin, coming out from behind the counter with his precious cargo and reverently setting the two large glass dishes onto her table with an exuberant flourish. "Would you like chocolate, butterscotch or a serving of each?"

"I have never tasted pudding." Seven admitted as she eyed each dish. It had obviously been scooped out into smaller servings for the crew at some point, but of the chocolate batch around a quarter remained, of the butterscotch a third. She must've glanced at a recipe at some point however, since she could recall the ingredients: sugar, milk and a thickening agent of gelatine, corn-starch or eggs among others. Too simple for her culinary efforts, but nothing offensive. "But now you have provided me with the opportunity."

Neelix beamed at her. "I'll get us some spoons." He bounced back to the galley to snatch up some spoons and pressed one into her hand. "Which first?"

"Chocolate." Seven decided swiftly. She knew her palette was still somewhat childish, chocolate was second only to strawberry. She was somewhat averse to eating out of a communal bowl, but dismissed the delicacy under Neelix's expectant gaze.

Neelix started to brim with pride as she took a big bite, but soon deflated as disgust flashed over Seven's features. She was undoubtedly skilled at suppressing her reactions, to anything, but it was his job to read when someone disliked something. The puckering brows, the churning tongue, the gag reflex then rapid gulp… It was obvious. "What is it? Maybe you'd prefer butterscotch…" He hurriedly pushed the second dish towards her.

"It's not the flavour…" Seven forced out, holding the dish away from her despite Neelix's efforts and dropping the spoon decidedly. A blush crept up her cheeks as Neelix obligingly handed her a glass of water, and she shot him a chastened and grateful glance from under her lashes as she took a long swig. So much for taste being irrelevant. No, it wasn't the taste; that was appropriately chocolate based… "I think it's the…"

"Texture?" A warm voice supplied helpfully, though with a distinct note of amusement. Seven jumped, her head snapping around to see Chakotay, the doors just closing behind him. His small smile became subtly sheepish at Seven's start, but soon shifted to a definite grimace as he eyed the pudding. "¡Asqueroso!" he muttered, then glanced apologetically at the Talaxian chef. "Sorry Neelix, I'm sure your version is as good as it can be…"

Neelix just chuckled in response. "No offence taken Commander, you did let me know early on..." He caught his eye teasingly, "…almost as soon as I opened the galley in fact, that your two dislikes were carrots and pudding." He chuckled again, "It just seems that your latest Away Team member agrees with you."

"Yes." Seven confirmed quietly, inclining her head towards Chakotay. "I think the texture is the issue. However, I must diverge from his opinion of carrots." She directed her words towards Neelix, but in spite of the awkwardness that had flooded her on his unexpected arrival, she couldn't resist quirking a brow in Chakotay's direction.

He responded with a languid smile, dark eyes glinting. "Really, Seven?" he questioned, playfully disappointed.

"Yes, really." She straightened in her chair, finally looking fully over her shoulder at him. "They are a versatile vegetable."

"Say that five times fast."

Seven stared at him blankly. "Why would…"

"It's a saying Seven."

"A game?" Seven guessed, reading the mischief in his expression. Similar to the 'tongue twisters' Naomi loved. "I would win." She told him told coyly, "But I am not going to play."

Chakotay returned her smirk as he approached the table. Seven noted with relief that his so recently fractured ankle no longer seemed to be causing pain or hindrance. The combination of the Ventu and the Doctor's care had served him well. "You're not going to be one of those people who asks me 'How can you be a vegetarian and not like carrots?' are you? Because I always give the same unimaginative answer, I don't like them."

"No, I was not." Seven assured him, amused. "Although it would be a valid question."

"Just as valid as thinking pudding is disgusting?" Chakotay pressed as he slid into the chair across from her.

"Yes." Seven admitted with a rueful sigh. Somehow she did not like conceding the point. "It is disgusting." Both of them moved to push the pudding dishes to the edge of the table. She hurriedly withdrew her hand and let him proceed; she thought, perhaps deceiving herself, that she saw him blink at her withdrawal, but if so he made no comment. "However, as you also said, it is not the fault of Mr Neelix. He was merely following a recipe neither of us care for."

"Right." Chakotay answered with a serious nod, belied by the upturn of his full lips.

Neelix's eyes flicked between the two of them. "Well, I'm glad to hear that at least!" he finally broke in brightly, "But as _I_ said, no offence taken." He gathered up his rejected bounty with a shrug, "I really thought you might have tried it before Seven, with the children perhaps? It's such a nostalgic treat for many of the crew that someone would've suggested it…"

"They may have…" Seven replied stiffly. In actuality, the vast majority of the wider crew's comments about her raising of the children had been behind her back, though well within her range of hearing, and certainly hadn't concerned dietary suggestions for the children. "I did, on occasion, heed Chakotay's suggestions of ice cream and cake."

"Ah, I suppose that explains the lack of pudding then, if you were taking his advice!" Neelix clapped Chakotay lightly on the back.

"Hey, they liked it, didn't they?" Chakotay defended, smiling at the thought of the children. Following Seven around in a row like chicks after a hen in the beginning; later the younger three barging into the Mess Hall, Seven calling after them not to run as Icheb shook his head in exasperation, the archetypal elder sibling. That had been especially common when Seven allowed an indulgence of course…

"They did." Seven confirmed softly. Her voice drew his eyes back to her face and he saw at once the sad wistfulness there. She missed them. Painfully. Watching her with the young Ventu girl had made him think back, so it had to be hitting her hard. He let his fingers seek her hand, brush a strip of surprisingly warm skin between the strands of Borg exoskeleton over her hand. She tensed further, momentarily, as she registered the contact, then released the breath she'd been holding. "They were also very partial to Lieutenant Paris' pizza, doughnuts and popcorn." She said in a steadier tone.

"Looks like you had competition for second favourite teacher after Seven, Chakotay." Neelix teased, "Popcorn especially is ingenious. Who would've thought that heating little seeds a certain way…"

Chakotay snorted. "The only things Tom taught those kids were holodeck related…" He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, "So that means he won that contest."

Seven rolled her eyes at him, half hiding her smirk behind her human hand. "Perhaps."

"Tom isn't here right now, you _could_ lie to me Seven…" He joked.

"You know me better than that Chakotay…" She started, mimicking his impish tone, but froze as she realised how she was talking, who she was talking to. No. She couldn't fall into this again. The Doctor had warned her, and she'd insisted the danger had to stay. Obviously she needed the failsafe to check her behaviour, to put a stop to lines of action and thought that would, in the end, only exacerbate her loneliness and discontentment. As the holodeck had. Short term pleasure earned long term pain. The situation on Ledos had been dire enough to demand all her attention, and if she were honest with herself, initially Chakotay's role in stranding them and his unadvisable interactions with the Ventu, dismissing her concerns, had aggravated her enough that it had been easy to be guarded and professional. She would've no more called him by his first name down there than she would've called B'Elanna coolheaded, or Tuvok illogical…

Neelix glanced at Seven quizzically as the light-hearted remark trailed off her lips and faded away. The blonde had abruptly paled. Chakotay's gaze, intent on her, became uncertain. Neelix stepped in swiftly, giving her a wide, encouraging smile while seamlessly taking up the thread of conversation. "Since the pudding tasting hasn't worked out, I'd better instruct the replicator to rustle up something else." He looked enquiringly at Chakotay, "Unless you ate your fill at the Captain's?"

Chakotay exchanged a wry smile with the Talaxian, he had more insight into the weekly dinners than most. Since Chakotay had for years, more weeks than not, visited the Mess Hall to soothe his unsettled or still growling stomach and on occasion bend the Morale Officer's willing ear. "More than usual. You heard about Seven saving the meal?" He flashed Seven a warm and gentle smile.

"I did." Neelix confirmed.

"I think the majority of her problem is that she enters recipes into the replicator incorrectly." Seven told them, "I know she prefers to program her own version to make it more 'home-cooked', but she should just order the computer set recipe by voice command…"

"How many recipes can there be for Chicken Kiev?" Chakotay questioned lightly, shrugging. He'd been glad even before Seven intervened that it was a chicken dish; he was not one of those vegetarians who rejected even replicated meat, but he still couldn't develop much of a taste for red meat. Then again, regularly over or undercooked wasn't much of an introduction.

"More than you would think." Seven answered.

"Well, since it's one of her favourite recipes, and yours was probably the tastiest since she's left Earth, I'd expect another dinner invitation."

Seven briefly ducked her head, the uncomfortable version of her usual poised nod. "If the Captain so wishes." She'd left tonight's dinner as soon as she'd seen an opening after the meal, pleading work. The Captain, partially seeing through her but knowing better than to pull apart the excuse, had gently told her to regenerate and take it easy. She'd also told her she was proud of how they'd handled themselves on Ledos, but wryly warned that she wouldn't send her to conferences again for a few months. Or give Chakotay permission to fly the shuttle they'd slowly need to build over the same time span. The dinner had actually been pleasant, the Captain in a warm, inquisitive mood, and hearing Chakotay's in-depth theories on the Ventu was interesting now that she was more than willing to hear them…but she'd felt inarticulate, not able to make her impressions of the place sound fully human. She knew the crew would have found her out of place at the dinner, but then they did anywhere.

"You still couldn't sleep after this wonderful meal?" Neelix questioned Chakotay.

Chakotay answered with a weary shrug. "You've got an insomniac old Indian on your hands again Neelix."

"Well, as I told Seven, desserts can help with the post away mission blues." Neelix replied in all confidence. He caught Seven's still lowered gaze, "Cheesecake, Seven?"

Seven chuckled softly as she arched a brow at him, "Neelix…"

The Talaxian raised his arms in laughing supplication. "I know, I know! Strawberry ice cream it is! Chakotay?"

The other man blinked, dragging curious eyes away from Seven to refocus on Neelix. "Oh, uh…chocolate for me please Neelix."

"Okay, two ice creams, one chocolate, one strawberry, coming right up! And a big bowl of popcorn for me…" Smacking his lips together in anticipation, Neelix bounced off towards the replicators.

"Use my replicators rations Neelix." Seven called after him softly.

Neelix started to spin around, "No, no, it's my treat…" He began to bluster.

"I can…" Chakotay jumped in at once.

Seven just shook her head firmly at him as she answered Neelix, "This time it will be my…treat."

"If you're sure you want to spend some of those hard earned and saved rations…"

"I am Mr Neelix." Seven reiterated. Her replicator use had dropped back down to its previous low levels since Mezoti, Azan and Rebi had left, Icheb considered himself grown enough that he preferred to use his own, and was anyway as economical with them as she was.

"Alright then." Neelix agreed with a reluctant sigh.

Reeling a little, Chakotay latched on to the question of his earlier surprise. "I've got to ask. Obviously, I get not liking pudding…" He chuckled, "…but cheesecake?"

"I don't dislike as such, in fact I rather enjoy making it." Seven replied ruefully, "But when the Doctor had to take…refuge in my implants and had control of my body, he overindulged. He ate three New York cheesecakes in one sitting, and I had to suffer the consequences. Since then, cheesecake has been rather tainted in my memory."

Chakotay made a sympathetic grimace. "As if not having control of your own body isn't bad enough…" He paused as it struck him that Seven had spent years like that, drones had no real control… He cleared his throat awkwardly, "But for the Doctor to take over…" He shuddered slightly, "Well, I guess this _can't_ have been the worse of away missions, comparatively…"

The ghost of a smile that had flickered over Seven's face at his reaction to her unfortunate cheesecake aversion bloomed briefly into a genuine, if shy, one. "Not at all." She murmured.

"Me neither." Chakotay agreed, giving her one of his most open smiles before adding wryly, "Not even in the top twenty."

"Voyager has had an…eventual journey."

"You can say that again." Another wry smile broke through even as he sighed.

"Unnecessary." Seven tossed back, her deadpan delivery cracking when Chakotay laughed. Self-consciousness crept in as she realised how inordinately pleased, even proud, she was that he'd understood she was teasing. Her head dipped again, her eyes pulled down from his twinkling ones.

"Seven…" He lowered his voice. Concern? He shifted forward in his chair and their knees met under the table. Almost unavoidable, given their respective heights, but she still jumped at the contact.

"How is your leg?" she asked abruptly, irritated with herself that even as she tried to divert him she still gave away some of her thoughts.

"Good as new." He assured her, though she suspected from the slight frown on his face that he wasn't fooled. "The Doctor was fascinated with the Ventu's poultice."

"You may find he wants to write a paper on it." Seven advised him.

"That's exactly what he said!" Chakotay told her, snickering. "My ankle might become famous in medical circles by association."

"Not as famous as my own anatomy." Seven replied, bringing him back down to Earth, or more appropriately, Voyager. "Perhaps…" She hesitated, more serious now. "Perhaps you could write your observations of the Ventu. The Captain was as fascinated by your observations of their sign language as the Doctor is by their medicine."

Chakotay blinked at her and for a split second she worried she'd made a fanciful suggestion. He was a proud Starfleet officer, not… Then he smiled, thoughtfully and inwardly at first, then beamed at her, his eyes dark glowing embers of anticipation. "Yes." He murmured, "I could, I _should_ … I mean, we didn't get much time, but…" He nodded vigorously, "That's an inspired idea, a flattering one…"

"I would not have suggested it if I did not think you were capable." Seven pointed out.

"I know." Chakotay reassured her gently, both amused and rather reassured himself by her brand of honesty. She wouldn't flatter him for the sake of it. "And thanks."

"You're very welcome." She answered quietly, giving him a long look before adding abruptly. "I should apologise."

"For what, Seven?" he asked blankly, so genuinely flummoxed that she felt worse. Oh, for acting on my attraction with a hologram… For avoiding you and being insolent afterwards…

"For leaving you alone when you were injured." She finally said. That didn't sit well with her now, someone who feared being alone abandoning an injured colleague. "For my initial attitude on the planet…"

"Seven, we talked about that." Chakotay reminded her tenderly, "I apologised for stranding us and making you miss your conference…"

Seven swallowed, "I did not really have a great desire to attend." She admitted, "The Ledosians are…ponderous. But it was preferable to shore leave. Still, I was frustrated by our predicament."

"You were in danger." Chakotay said sharply, then sighed at the confused look she shot him. "The Doctor filled me in at length about his theories about how your implants would start to fail if you couldn't regenerate…"

Seven pressed her lips tight together. "He should not have burdened you with that concern."

"I _should've_ fully realised myself." Chakotay muttered darkly, "I'm sorry, Seven." He shook his head, "I apologised before and you thanked me for…" Given what the Doctor had told him of the painful decline Seven would've faced on that planet, her genuine thanks for the experience struck him as remarkable. "As for my ankle, I ordered you to do reconnaissance for the components we needed…"

"I could have disobeyed you." Seven told him, straightening, her gaze almost challenging.

Chakotay managed a small smirk. "I'm sure you could've." If anybody was capable of following her own instinct without a thought of the chain of command, it was Seven of Nine. "But if you hadn't left me, as I ordered, we wouldn't have had the Ventu to help us, we wouldn't have had our experience with them…" She nodded in acknowledgement of his points and he smiled, "…and I wouldn't have had a topic for my first anthropological paper."

She gaped at him before a soft laugh escaped her lips. "Your priorities are somewhat off Commander."

"Chakotay." He corrected absently, before grinning at her mischievously. "You've created a monster."

Seven shook her head at him. "A monster of anthropology? Doubtful."

Chakotay answered with a guffaw. "Maybe." He sobered as his brow crinkled in concern once more. "You're still thinking about what might happen to the Ventu?" He guessed as the hand that had earlier brushed against hers tentatively covered it.

Seven started to pull back, but his fingers curled stubbornly, gently holding her in place. She sighed and met his searching gaze with a clear-eyed but resigned one of her own. "You were correct in what you said." She said with finality.

"Yes…"

"I have no control over what may happen on that planet now, and there is no way for us to know in any case." Seven interrupted tersely, the words like a mantra that had evidently proved none too comforting.

Control. Something Seven had had so much of over the lives of others within the Collective, and yet none at all because of the very nature of being a drone. But then, what human _liked_ things being out of their control? He certainly didn't… "It's still hard to accept that though." He told her, running a weary hand over his face as he thought of his nights lying awake. He hadn't been joking with Neelix about the insomnia. "Believe me, I do understand."

"I do believe you." Seven murmured earnestly, then sighed again. "It merely seems as if, in this instance, acceptance will take me longer than…" She consulted her internal chronometer, "…nine hours."

"And so it should." Chakotay agreed seriously, then, with a wan smile, "Unless Voyager runs into something else first."

"You prefer distraction to acceptance?" Seven arched an eyebrow and said dryly, "I suppose that explains Voyager's eventful journey in some part."

Chakotay wasn't in the mood to deny it, though what light that threw his and Kathryn's decisions into he had no idea, and she was so _frank_ about it. "Must be."

Neelix had been holding back. Something in his gut told him to stand aside, to give the two of them time. After seven full years now as Voyager's Morale Officer, he'd learned to trust that instinct, within reason. The Commander and Seven weren't going to start a shouting match in his Mess Hall like Crewman Diaz and Ensign Soyadi had six months ago, no… Away missions had a history of stirring things up, and if Seven and Chakotay talking was their way of making the dust settle, so be it. But their ice cream was really starting to melt in the bowls, and since the pudding had _already_ been a bust… He took the plunge and headed back to the table. "Here we are, two ice creams!"

"Thank you Neelix." The two of them said in unison. It was obvious that neither had noticed his delayed return.

Chakotay delved into his ice cream at once. Seven was more refined and careful at first, until Chakotay smirked at her provokingly, then she piled her spoon high and popped it unhesitatingly into her mouth right in front of him. "So…" Neelix began, drawing their attention back to him with a little regret. "I'd really like you to help me with the cooking classes again Seven. We were the perfect team in the beginning…"

"You needed assistance to distract the crew after the Quarra incident." Seven reminded him awkwardly, "The classes are a normal recreational activity now…"

"I think you're underestimating how rowdy these classes can get!" Neelix pressed, "I need some back up!" Realising from Seven's stiffening expression, that he might have given the impression Seven was just a disciplinarian…which she was, but not in a bad way. "And of course, you're a wonderful chef who learned from scratch! Inspirational!" Literally from nothing, he vividly remembered teaching her to eat.

"I wouldn't say that." Seven answered uneasily. She had an unfair advantage when it came to learning. Learning anything other than social skills that is. "But I will consider your request of course."

"That's all I ask." Neelix replied kindly, but he knew when to back off and conveniently remembered that he'd left his popcorn behind and left the table to retrieve it.

Seven watched him go, then turned back to Chakotay, who was watching her intently. "Why did you ask me to attend the cooking class?" She blanched as soon as the question left her lips, though she quickly clamped down on the reaction and tried to pretend it hadn't happened at all. Unfortunately, she couldn't take back the question. What had possessed her to ask _that_?

Chakotay took his time to answer. Honestly? He'd asked himself that question as soon as he'd made the suggestion, and it had recurred insistently, furiously, after she'd brushed him off and he'd felt irrationally, inexplicably irritated. As if he'd expected something else. He still didn't know the full answer for sure. He'd seen her struggling and he'd reached out… Although right now it seemed such a useless attempt at comfort that he felt crass. Seven wasn't exactly one to cry over spilled milk, whatever had bothered her, he didn't know what it had been, was almost guaranteed to have been serious. "It was spur of the moment." He admitted finally, "I wanted to." He continued in a softer voice, catching the blush that flooded her beautiful face before it drained away. The sight of it emboldened him. "Why did you say no?"

Seven considered not answering, but hearing honesty always pushed her own forward. "I was…unhappy at the time." She whispered, "I couldn't face it."

Chakotay nodded slowly, squeezing the hand he still held. "You're feeling better now?"

Seven stared down at their interlocked hands. "I don't know." She mumbled thickly, then shook herself and raised her head. "I will adapt." Her voice faltered as she met his eyes and she dropped the Borg mask as quickly as she'd hid behind it. "It was difficult, but I have faced difficulty before. We all have."

"Not alone." Chakotay pressed in an intense whisper.

Neelix chose that moment to return, munching happily. His voice was muffled by a huge mouthful that puffed out his cheeks like a chipmunk. "Maybe I shouldn't say…but a little celebration is being held in the holodeck tomorrow…"

"A party?" Chakotay clarified, louder than Neelix's secretive undertone, exchanging a look with Seven. "Who for?" he asked with a smirk, glad to brighten up.

Seven managed a wobbly smile. Not alone. Maybe she couldn't go beyond the failsafe, but she couldn't withdraw entirely either. It was…impossible. "You shouldn't presume Chakotay." She chided him, brow rising again. "It could be a party to commiserate with Tom for failing his Ledosian flying test."

Chakotay and Neelix both burst out laughing. The former could hardly catch his breath as he relished the release. He stared at Seven with wide eyes, "You have to go, just to say that to Tom's face!"

"Maybe."

"I'll take you." He offered seriously, "We'll have fun Seven. We need some fun."

"Yes." He wasn't sure which statement she was agreeing to at first, then decided from her blush and shy look that the first one was included in her assent. He was surprised how big his grin was.

Although he was really fully satisfied with this turn of events, Neelix couldn't stop himself from going back to his pet project while things were going well. "And the cooking class?"

Seven laughed under her breath. "Yes, I will attend the next one Mr Neelix." She assured him magnanimously.

He clapped his hands together. "Good! I'll prepare a vegetarian recipe to teach then, if you're going to join us too Chakotay?" The First Officer nodded vigorously, smiling to himself. "Oh!" Neelix continued, "I'm sure, between the two of you, you could convince the Captain to attend and really learn something…"

Seven and Chakotay's eyes met again. "We can try." They said in unison.

* * *

 **A/n: What Chakotay exclaims in Spanish is 'Disgusting!'**

 **Please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Thank you to NikkiB1973 for her encouragement in extending the original one-shot and to TheLadyMage for all her invaluable ideas and beta reading skills! :) Check out the penultimate chapter of TheLadyMage's fantastic story 'Falleretque Perfectus'.**

 **I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.**

* * *

Chakotay flinched as he heard a crash behind the just closed Mess Hall doors. He chuckled as he glanced at his companion, "Should we go back in and help him?"

After a moment's consideration, Seven shook her head. "Neelix was quite insistent that we leave it to him and attempt to rest until the morning." Her lips twitched up ruefully, "Extremely insistent." Almost aggravatingly so, from her perspective, since the mundane task of helping the Talaxian clean up the hall for the next morning would've given her time to process, an opportunity to burn the nervous energy she could feel bubbling. It would've been preferable at least to pacing the Cargo Bay. Of course, if she had held back to assist, Chakotay would've also, and the cycle would've continued…

"Right." Chakotay agreed with a dry chuckle, "He practically hustled us out together." He saw her stiffen at the last word, uncomfortable. Neelix's manoeuvres around them hadn't become increasingly obvious to just him then. Not that he doubted, for a second, that Seven was acutely observant, as much as her often brusque manner might seem to belie the fact. No one could issue such often painfully accurate critiques on situations and motivations, however bluntly, without uncommon astuteness. It didn't cancel out the naivety, but should've made anybody wary of underestimating her too. "Do I look that sleep deprived?" he joked.

Seven's snort built into a laugh as he dramatically prodded under his eyes where bags presumably lurked. Maybe that was laying it on thick, he wasn't Tom and couldn't pull it off…but it was enough to make Seven relax, exhale with her laughter. Putting her own spin on his attitude, she cocked her head at him in consideration. "Not especially."

"Well, that's something, I guess…" Chakotay ran a hand over his face, but it hardly muffled his snicker and his eyes sparkled at her. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome!" she retorted in the same humorous, baiting tone, but the spurt of confidence dropped like a stone into the pit of her stomach as she saw the dangerous incongruity of her paying any attention to his looks, let alone commenting on them. She swallowed and felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. His brows instantly drew together, peering at her, though she fervently hoped her thoughts were not as transparent to him as they had apparently been to Neelix. "But…but somehow I doubt the sincerity of your gratitude." She grappled with the threads of her dry wit and held on for dear life. The stutter at the beginning sounded loud in her ears until Chakotay's laugh, his head tilting back, banished it.

"Being told you don't look 'especially' tired by someone who's seen you at your worst isn't exactly a ringing endorsement, you see?" Chakotay shook his head, still chuckling. "But like I said, I'll take it!"

"If you wish." Seven risked meeting his gaze through her eyelashes, but the softness she thought she saw in his dark eyes surprised, and saddened, her enough that she quickly diverted her own gaze downwards again. "Do you think you will be able sleep easily now?" she asked seriously.

"I…" Chakotay felt his brain stall as clarity struck him. It wouldn't be thoughts of the Ventu that would keep him awake now. "I hope so." He said finally, "I feel a lot better."

"As do I." Seven murmured.

He smiled at her then, gently, but didn't comment, instead commenting wryly, "Although I doubt brain freeze is great for insomnia. Brain freeze is…"

"Sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia, or ice cream headache." Seven supplied awkwardly, "The Doctor was rather detailed in his explanation to myself and the children when I took them to Sickbay with symptoms." She explained while blushing furiously. She'd been mortified when the Doctor had made everything so painstakingly clear to her, most pointedly her overreaction to what had seemed to her a spontaneous outbreak of headaches in her charges. She wondered why she'd admitted such an error to Chakotay, it would've been easier on her pride to let him explain the term unaware.

"You didn't know…"

"The Doctor was gracious while informing me." Seven assured him. She was well aware Chakotay could be intolerant of the hologram's more pompous tendencies she and others had inured themselves to. "If overzealous in promoting a lecture into common childhood ailments."

Chakotay rolled his eyes a little. As if Seven hadn't already researched extensively anything that could actually harm the children; she could be forgiven for being ignorant of brain freeze. "Bet that class was fun for all of you." He muttered. "You let them have ice cream again though, right?"

"After the class." She shrugged in the face of his laughter, "It seemed appropriate. I merely ensured they were slower in consumption."

"Maybe you should've ensured the same from me."

"You require me to ensure you act like an adult?" Seven teased incredulously.

"Maybe." Chakotay confirmed, "Or maybe since it was your rations that got the ice cream, I need someone to make sure I act like a kid every so often." His grin turned rueful as he too shrugged, "Not much opportunity for it when you're First Officer."

"I will keep that requirement of yours in mind then." Seven replied with a soft wryness. That traitorous blush returned as he smiled at her warmly and alarm ran up her spine. Not as crippling a warning as the failsafe, these were her human senses. The ones who could also lead her so far astray, had been making her dance around the line all night. The line that he didn't even conceptualise but would trip her up and hurt her if she wasn't careful. Doubly careful. "I hope you sleep well, Commander…" She started to turn away to head towards the turbolift.

Chakotay was confused by her literal and figurative about-face. "Wait, Seven…" He was left hanging for a second whether she would stop, but she turned back to him at once. However, he had little idea of what to say. "What about you?" he managed, "Will you be able to regenerate now?"

"Yes." Seven responded swiftly, fervently hoping rather than lying. She felt his expectation for more, and given the comfort he'd provided before, she was unable to deny it to herself, nor fail to not be at least as partially honest as she had been. It would cheapen…something. "I know that the resolution we achieved on Ledos was as clean…and happy as we could expect. I'll accept that in time, without allowing my efficiency to be compromised too much."

Efficiency isn't everything. He could see from the strained look on Seven's face that she realised that perfectly well. She was still attached to the idea of course, but he'd also realised long ago that she tended to throw out these Borg mantras as a protective mechanism. Hurt sparkled inside him that she felt the need to get away from him, but he could definitely understand the desire to avoid a question about your own wellbeing. He'd been touched and surprised by how much she had confided. And taken aback by what he'd told her in response. "We'll make a toast to the Ventu's safety and happiness tomorrow at the party." He suggested gently. As they'd both realised to their chagrin, they couldn't do anything more than wish them well and feel grateful to be home.

Seven inclined her head, "A suitable gesture." She agreed, "I also intend to observe Ledosia with Astrometrics sensors for as long as possible."

Chakotay gave her a relieved, appreciative look. Trust Seven to come up with something more practical, although he'd need to make sure she didn't obsess. Especially when Voyager would soon be too far distant to do anything if the Ledosians did succeed in replicating her method of disabling the shield. Privately he doubted they would be able to do it at all, let alone within the short timeframe Astrometrics sensors would provide for Seven to keep a hawkish eye. "I trust you to give me full reports."

"You should." Seven replied, "You have been collecting my daily reports for four years." Her implant capped brow formed an elegant arch, "Unless you are not in the habit of _reading_ them."

"Seven!" He made his own eyebrows almost reach his hairline, then collapsed into his rich laugh. "Feel free to give me a pop quiz anytime, Crewman!"

"You may regret that offer." She snorted behind her smirk as he mouthed an 'Oh no!', bringing a hand up to his face, a gesture she'd heard Harry and Tom call a 'facepalm'. "But perhaps I will…go easy on you at first."

"¡Por favor!" he exclaimed, "Come on, let's go before I dig myself into an even bigger hole…"

Seven's smile became uncertain as he fell into step with her. "Cargo Bay 2 is as distant as possible from your quarters…"

The Cargo Bay is distant from everything, Chakotay thought sadly. "Doesn't matter." He assured her with a shrug, "The ship is quiet, it'll only take a few minutes to get down there…"

"The consideration is unnecessary." Seven answered in a reticent tone. "Please, feel free to go to bed."

Chakotay could see he was making her uncomfortable again, and though he was tempted to take up the challenge to coaxing her back to their banter, and reluctant to give that up, he knew when to step back. "Okay, but I'll pick you up for the party tomorrow." He said casually.

She was taken aback, but taking some context from his off-hand tone, she recovered quickly. "If you wish."

He offered her a warm smile in reply. "Buenas noches Seven."

"Que duermas bien, Chakotay." She murmured, though she unconsciously mirrored his smile. It was a smile that left him standing for a few seconds as she turned away and headed back to her Cargo Bay.

* * *

As soon as she entered the Cargo Bay, Seven saw at once that someone or some people had been there. And conducted a rather disorganised search for whatever they'd been looking for, either parts or contraband. With a fresh sense of purpose, and new weariness, she strode over to the improperly closed crates, which were also out of configuration within their rows. Container 47 Beta and Container 34 Alpha. She had to roll her shoulders as she began to set things to rights. Her bi-radial clamp was edging out of alignment and would need to be attended to at her next maintenance appointment. For efficiency's sake before then, but her reluctance to visit Sickbay would win out. The Doctor's hints, pleas, about progress he'd speculatively made on the failsafe, were not made as sensitively as he thought. Then again, how sensitive could he be when he fundamentally disagreed with her decision… She sighed. "Computer, play Seven of Nine music file Two Alpha." Classical piano immediately floated through the Cargo Bay, echoing in its darkened corners.

A short trip to her console told her who had paid a visit. Crewman Boylan. To collect his stash of Tarkellian cigars no doubt. The Doctor would be livid that anyone was smoking, but Seven considered a secret she could keep. He was conscious enough of his limited supply that he only took one at a time. The case would be returned to the hiding spot by tomorrow. If she were here when he arrived, she'd remind him of cargo storage protocols. Perhaps the cigar was to serve as fortification if he intended to finally propose to Crewman White, as the rumour mill had been anticipating for weeks. If so, she wouldn't note their lateness to their shifts in her notes for their next efficiency report. It couldn't be his birthday, Tom would've incorporated that into tonight's party…

The thought of the party stubbornly teased fragments, then chunks, of her attention away from the console and she noticed, as if drawn to it, the blanket still resting where she'd left it. Her cheeks burned at the thought of Boylan or anyone else seeing it shook her, though she didn't want to analyse why. Carefully, she gathered it up, holding it gingerly to her chest before marching over to the container she'd long designated as for her personal use. It was anonymous among the others, and only she and Icheb, who didn't presume to open it. The only protection from curiosity was that ordinariness, and the Borg components that surrounded it particularly closely. Wryly, thinking of the Captain's gothic novellas, she may as well have placed some skull and crossbones atop it, the effect was much the same for the crew.

Another sigh left her lips as she opened the container, filled with the little the children hadn't taken with them, little gifts they'd made for her in art class and such. The kadiskot board Naomi had given her after discovering her birthday. She placed the blanket on top of her neatly folded biosuits for now, although it was far more necessary to reach the former in a hurry.

In front of her stood all the contents salvaged from the Raven, shoved right into the deepest corner. The Captain had asked if she wanted it moved after she'd been rescued from the Queen, but she had shrugged the offer off. Where else was it all to go but the Cargo Bay? She hadn't read the logs since then. She'd been on the verge of beaming it all into space after Icheb's parents' duplicity, but she'd realised that her anger was, this time, misdirected. In her more bitter moments, she let herself think that to destroy their work would be fitting. Then all that would be left of their obsession would be the scars on the daughter whose fate they'd sealed, who would now be the authority on the Borg they'd wished to be. Her privacy screen for changing was next to it, utilitarian grey panels. It didn't escape her that she stripped daily, vulnerable by the standards of human modesty, staring at her parents' grim legacy. By now, she was almost inured to it, and it was impractical to move the screen, it was indeed the corner least exposed to human eyes.

As he'd entered, he'd been poignantly struck by the Cargo Bay's renewed starkness. The little homely touches that had multiplied with each week the children had been here had been swept away. Of course, Icheb was still here, but he was as spartan and neat as Seven. A rare trait in a teenager, although his sister had always proved that rule more than him in his humble opinion. Seven's sculpted crown of hair caught his eye, and his heart squeezed. Vaguely he tried to tell himself it was empathy, it had been a hard, losing year for her. But the next, stronger fancy tossed that weightless excuse aside. Seeing her with her back to him, just as in Astrometrics, made him want to come up behind her, gently clasp her shoulders and turn her to face him. However, his courage failed him. "Seven?"

Her hands clenched white around the soft blanket as she jumped at the sound of his voice. Thankfully, she remembered to let it go as she spun around. "Commander…"

"Chakotay." He corrected softly, giving her his most reassuring smile. "Are you ready to go?"

Seven's brows drew down in confusion. "Go?" She finally absorbed his appearance, though that threw her into a stomach flipping loop. He wasn't fully casual, he was still wearing his usual uniform trousers and boots, but the crisp white shirt was a distinct change. Practical, because if called to the Bridge he could pull his jacket over. Flattering, because, well… She managed a dry swallow, pushing her brain to function. "The party." She realised.

"Yeah." Chakotay's smile became uncertain at her daunted tone. Had she thought he wasn't serious last night? Maybe he'd joked around too much…but he thought they'd had fun with that. She'd given as good as she got. He scrambled for something to fill the silence, give them space to think. No, it wasn't silent. "Liszt?"

Seven blinked, memory flashing painfully in front of her eyes. The real Chakotay had more music knowledge than her hologram, it seems. "Yes." She confirmed, having to focus her ears to hear it. "Consolations, S.172:3 Lento placido." The irony of the idea of consolation in regards to Chakotay was not lost on her, but at least it wasn't Liebestraume. That thought brought her back to reality with a bump and she met his gaze with clear eyes. "You need not have come Commander. I assure you I would've attended to tease Mister Paris as we discussed."

Chakotay relaxed with a chuckle. "Well then, let me keep up my half of the promise. I'm taking you."

"I am unaccustomed…" Seven started faintly.

"To what?" Chakotay asked with an earnest smile. "Chivalry?" A rosy blush bloomed over her cheeks and he wondered if he was coming on a bit strong. If this was the result, he'd do it again, in good time. "I need to redeem my manners at least, after not walking you back here last night." He gave a slight smirk, "I promise I'm a better date than the Doctor."

"Not to sound unfair to the Doctor, but that is not saying much…" Seven blanched guiltily as her thoughtless reply. "Please do not repeat that. His…feelings would be hurt."

Chakotay regarded her fondly, "I won't." He vowed seriously, "It'll be our secret."

"Thank you." Seven took a breath, leaning against the container for a split second. It was just a party, given her previous attitude no one would expect her to stay long. She hadn't lied to Chakotay either, she had _intended_ to go to the party. Why not let him fulfil his 'promise'? One evening. That was all it was. An insignificant one to him, to recover from a shared experience. By tomorrow or the next day their usual pattern of behaviour would resume, and quash any stronger feelings that might endanger her. Pushing the small voice that dryly claimed all these assurances, mental gymnastics, were excuses, she smiled back at him. "Let's go."

"Great!" He enthused, rewarding her last-minute decision with a gleaming, dimpled grin that bolstered her. She started towards him like a moth to a flame, but then he suddenly bent with a soft chuckle and handed her the forgotten container lid on the floor.

"Thank you." Seven repeated quickly, jumping slightly as their hands made contact.

"De nada." Chakotay murmured with a shrug, discreetly rubbing his damp palms on his trousers as she turned away. He caught he glimpse of the blanket as she closed the container and smiled to himself. "You're keeping it close to hand."

Seven looked at him over her shoulder, lips curling ruefully. "It may get cold one day."

"Creo que si." He agreed, "Keep it safe." He reached out for her, "¿Vamos?" His grin became teasing, "You don't want to dent your reputation for punctuality."

Seven laughed unguardedly, a sound all the more beautiful for its rarity, however much he'd been wanting to hear it again since last night. "The crew would merely blame you."

"They would, would they?" he retorted, voice deep and eyebrows high, but he couldn't maintain it and followed her laughter with a shake of his head. "Okay…you're probably right, as ever."

Seven's face clouded over for a moment. "I am far from always right." She murmured, her blue eyes fixed on him but unreadable.

"No one is." Chakotay reminded her gently, giving her arm a soft squeeze. "Certainly not me, as you've seen lately." She opened her mouth but he continued, "Or the Captain, or the Doctor for that matter, nor anyone else." He held her gaze, "Being infallible would be pressure I wouldn't wish on anyone."

"I would not either." Seven agreed quietly, joining him as he gestured back towards the door. As they passed the rest of the containers however, she stopped in her tracks. "Wait! ¡Espera!" The disappointment in the confused glance he gave her in reply would've stopped her dead anyway. She was misreading things, it was disappointed exasperation, much like when she'd turned down the cooking class… She tried to be reassuring, and acted on her frivolous impulse. "Would this party, your toast to the Ventu, be an appropriate use of one of your bottles of Antarian cider?"

Chakotay's eyes bugged. "Icheb…"

"There was no need for Icheb to tell me." She told him, hands moving to her hips. "Do you doubt that I know of every item in this Cargo Bay?"

Chakotay barked out a laugh, then another. "No…no, I don't."

"Who do you think kept Neelix from discovering it before you wisely heeded Icheb's advice to move it?" Seven pressed her point mercilessly, relishing watching him grasp his sides as he laughed louder.

"Okay then…" Chakotay answered with a snicker, "If you can find it, we'll take it. But remember, we don't want to be late."

Seven's eyes flared at the challenge, almost gleefully in Chakotay's mind. "I will take responsibility for any delay." She assured him with a smirk, rocking back on her heels.

Chakotay watched, his amusement flying off the chart, as she (admittedly predictably) made an immediate beeline for _that_ particular row of containers. In record time, she had another lid off and held her prize aloft. He answered with exaggerated claps and laughter.

She returned to him, holding out the bottle smugly. "Here it is, Commander."

Chakotay threw up his hands. "Oh no, you won it fair and square. It's yours."

Seven snorted softly, pressing it into his grasp as she ducked her head.

"Alright." He agreed, "But it's a loan."

She met his gaze again, then nodded. "For the toast."

"It's a deal." He held out his hand. She took it gingerly, though her shake was firm.

"As you said, we should go." She advised him hurriedly, her hands withdrawing to behind her back. "Computer, end music."

"What was that last piece?" Chakotay enquired as the much more mundane sound of the doors hissing opening broke the new silence. "Not Liszt or Chopin or Beethoven…" He smiled apologetically, "That's about as many names as I know."

Seven made a concession to his honesty. "That is more than many of the crew, unless they have been unfortunate enough to attend one of the Doctor's lectures." She told him dryly, then answered, "Antonín Dvořák. 19th Century Czech composer. Opus 11, B. 39."

"Does it have a name that's easier to remember? So I don't need to endure the Doctor's lecture to request it from the Computer?"

His teasing seemed to fall flat this time as Seven's gaze slid away from him and she slipped out of the door ahead of him. "Romance in F Minor."

* * *

 **A/n: Please review! :)**

 **Translations: 'Please!', 'Good night, Seven.', 'Sleep well, Chakotay.', 'It's nothing.', 'I think so.', 'Shall we go?', 'Wait!'**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: Thank you to TheLadyMage for all her help with this chapter. For more C/7 fluff, check out her story 'Prove It.' It's amazing! :)**

 **I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.**

* * *

Chakotay was relieved to find when he followed her out into the corridor that Seven was waiting for him. For a second, he feared he'd hit on her hair-trigger fight or flight response, though how he had no idea. As he watched her stand there like a sentinel, face carefully blank, he became more certain that she was anxious. Maybe he was _pushing_ this party on her, not coaxing. He could give her an out, back off. But that would hurt her. Rejection was rejection even if you didn't really want to be pulled along. He studied the profile of inscrutable mask on her beautiful face for answers, seeing none but finding his own mouth opening. "My mother loved the piano."

Seven's head whipped around, but her surprise was topped by his own. It must've been obvious on his face that he'd slipped, as she gave him a long stretch of seconds before responding. "She played?"

Chakotay's chuckled thickly, running his fingers through his hair. "She tried. Until all of our ears rang." He shook his head, "I was a hell of a lot worse and Sekaya, my sister, she wouldn't even sit through the first lesson. I still have no idea why _I_ was pegged as the contrary one." Another rough laugh.

Seven unthinkingly fell into step with him as he started down the hallway. "Perhaps it depended on the situation." She answered. He immediately smirked, nodding and perhaps thinking of another incident involving his sister, _she_ could recall a few if she concentrated, so he must remember so many more. "You…don't discuss your mother." She stated softly.

"No, not often." Chakotay stiffened, though as ever he felt guilty for the tension that braced his shoulders. He expected to have to fend off the usual questions as any slip of his always piqued. Curiosity trumping delicacy. Understandably he supposed, but that didn't mean he wanted to answer them. No matter how much his mother _deserved_ to be discussed…

After a second's pause however, she only nodded once, looking at him through her lashes as they continued on. "Thank you, then…for the honour."

"You're…you're welcome." He replied, both affected and bemused. Wrong footed. Almost literally as his feet slowed for a moment, but he had to keep pace with her.

She turned to him, her gaze and stride steady. "How was your Bridge duty today?"

"Busy." He replied easily, gratefully. "I think the crew holds little problems back to throw at me all at once whenever I get back." They entered the turbolift. "And Astrometrics?"

"Deck 6." Seven ordered the Computer. "Akin to your experience, although Icheb, Megan Delaney and Tal Celes 'held down the fort' sufficiently. As you are aware, the Captain joined me there for a significant period."

"You found a good route around Ledosian space?"

Seven nodded gladly, "And that of their trading partners, although the Captain hopes we can still interact once the impact of our actions passes. It seems as if it is not only us who find the Ledosians pompous."

Chakotay answered with a dark laugh. "I can believe that."

"Indeed." She agreed dryly, "This new route we calculated is more efficient anyway, even factoring in the Captain's intended exploration."

Chakotay chuckled. "She'll approve of your foresight, or I do at least." The turbolift drew to a smooth halt and he held back to let her out first. "But that's not our most important mission in regards to the Captain." He reminded her slyly.

Seven looked at him blankly, though read enough into his tone that her eyebrows arched. "What exactly are you referring to?"

"Getting her to go to a cooking class." Chakotay answered, "We told Neelix we'd try."

Seven smirked at him, "We could just tell her she needs to go."

"Believe me, I've tried that method, just not with cooking." Chakotay advised her with a wry shake of his head as they reached the doors of Holodeck 2. "And how receptive to learning did the 'being encouraged to volunteer' method make you?"

Her chortling laughter rang out clear as a bell, and drew as much attention. Her baiting reply, being more audible to their new audience than Chakotay's opening, only drew more stunned curiosity. "Then what do _you_ suggest?"

"I don't know!" Chakotay protested, chuckling. "Like I said, I've tried most methods…" He trailed off as Seven's responding laughter, already bubbling up, abruptly snuffed out. He was more aware of that silence than the quiet that had descended on the holodeck, despite the fact he'd just been able to hear that bustle from outside moments before. "Seven?"

She hesitated to reply, their rapport gone. "We're here Commander." She eventually remarked quietly.

"Yeah…" Her open face had snapped shut, like a steel trap. The roses on her cheeks turned to ashes, the shy smile to a slight grimace. He felt his own smile falter, its width more remarkable now that it fell. He finally registered the others in the room, the sly glances over shoulders at tables and the outright stares, the eyerolls. The urge to glower back was strong, and it intensified as he felt Seven edge away from him. "Hi everyone." He greeted smoothly instead, holding his ground. "How's the party going?"

Most of the people in the frontline had the grace to shift uncomfortably, while behind them out of sight conversation hurriedly burst out. "Muy bien, jefe." Ayala answered loyally, and placatingly. He was immediately backed up by several of the Maquis who could hear the edge in their leader's voice and see it in his face. "Estupenda...loca…" There were a couple of snickers at that, but they were muffled, and the vast majority had the sense to turn away.

Chakotay waited until they'd broken eye contact and turned back to Seven. She wasn't there. She'd detached herself from the gaze of the crowd, and from him. His heart started to sink, though it also thudded with building frustration. As he spotted her however, that same heart squeezed with sadness. She'd retreated against the wall. Still near the door but every new arrival walked past her without more than the barest of second glances. They likely thought she was sulking as having to attend. Ready to slip out at the first opportunity… He knew what he would've assumed a few months ago, or even a few days ago. "Seven? Everything okay?"

She gave him an uneasy glance as he reached her. "Yes." She answered quickly. "Why wouldn't it be?" She swallowed and held her head higher, observing the scene in front of her. "Mr Paris has altered this programme." Sandrine's had certainly grown in scope since her aborted date here. The romantic booths had been taken out to accommodate an enlarged dance floor. The piano the Doctor had spied on her from was on a larger stage. One of the pool tables had even been forsaken in exchange for buffet tables.

"I'm starting to think Sandrine is an entrepreneur with several premises." Chakotay joked. "Tom's been good to her." Seven's stoical mask cracked, a smile flickering across her face so rapidly that if he'd blinked he would've missed it. But he was a more patient man than that, and keen eyed, which age hadn't done anything to lessen. The room was getting busier every second, the mismatched tables rapidly filling up. Even he did not find the prospect of the crowd particularly appealing. Given how much Seven had withdrawn, he was beginning to wish they'd stayed in the Cargo Bay, or returned to the Mess Hall… He spotted Neelix's bespeckled head bobbing around the buffet table and exhaled. "There's Neelix! Want to go and grab something to eat before only Leola root is left?"

Seven nodded, "That would perhaps be wise." She admitted. A fond smirk played briefly over her lips as she looked over at Neelix. "He may be serving popcorn."

Chakotay snorted, "How much do you want to bet?"

"That's strictly against Starfleet regulations Commander." Seven replied dryly. Chakotay's warm laugh turned several heads and her stomach twisted. What was she doing?

Chakotay was stubbornly ignorant of their observers. All he saw was Seven's confidence deflating as soon as it resurfaced. "Let's go see anyway." He suggested softly, taking her hand.

They'd barely made it two strides towards the buffet before Tom very deliberately stepped in their path. "Hey guys!" he greeted brightly, "So you finally decided to show up to your own party." His grin was charming, blue eyes taking everything in. Seven moved back behind Chakotay a little and slipped her hand out of his.

B'Elanna elbowed him lightly. "Obviously Tom." She too studied them astutely, "The bright lights of Sandrine's attracted them."

"Well, why wouldn't it after being stranded out in the sticks?"

"I don't know…Chakotay's always found charm in the great outdoors. Unless he has to dig a firepit or a latrine that is, that's what we underlings were for." She just winked at Chakotay when he snorted loudly.

"Shame I don't have those anymore." He retorted, making her cackle. "And I think you kept yourselves pretty busy while we were gone, right?"

"Well, you saw the flight manoeuvres I had to pull to save the day, right?" Tom reminded him.

"Yes, you may have redeemed yourself." Seven remarked.

Tom put his hands on his hips as his wife smirked. "What exactly do you mean by that Seven?"

The laugh behind the question emboldened Seven and she stood her ground. "Nothing." She assured him airily, only arching a brow.

Chakotay waited for her punchline, happy that she hadn't been daunted into silent observation by the easy banter. It didn't come, though the wry glance she shot him set him to sniggering again. "Seven, me prometiste…"

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. Her oldest friend was practically _pouting_ at the ex-drone. It was endearing, comical, and totally surreal. "¿Qué prometió?"

Seven didn't answer directly. In fact, she avoided her gaze. Instead she sighed and squared herself off against Tom. "We…Chakotay and I were wondering if this party was truly for us."

Tom blinked at her. "Who else would it be for?" He asked good-naturedly.

"You." Seven answered succinctly. His perplexed expression coaxed her lips up, but her deadpan delivery held. "To commiserate you on failing your flight examination."

Tom's eyes bugged for a split second before he burst out laughing. A startled B'Elanna was carried along with it too, nodding her head vigorously as she laughed too. The hilarity only increased as Tom poked Chakotay in the chest. "You…You put her up to that!"

Chakotay threw up his hands. "No. It was all her!" he argued with a grin.

"His influence was…slight." Seven agreed, though B'Elanna thought she saw pink colour the other woman's cheeks.

"Harry!" Tom sought out his best friend's support as the Ops Officer made his way back from the buffet. He was carrying a second plate. Now either Harry has chosen tonight to become a glutton of Neelix's food, or he was playing at chivalry. Interesting… "Can you back me up on this? No way this party is all for little old me!"

Harry stopped in his tracks. "Right, right…" He started distractedly, then shrugged as he took in the four waiting faces, his smile boyish. "That's too much for you Tom, way outside the bounds of imagination…"

"Starfleet and the Borg have got the measure of you, flyboy. Better to just admit it now." B'Elanna teased.

Tom's chin gave a defiant jerk. "There can be a few reasons for holding a party you know…"

"Uh, Harry?" Tal Celes tentatively touched Harry's elbow. "I found a table, do you want me to…" She went beet red as she felt eyes on her. "Uh…hey guys."

"Celes, just the person to ask!" Tom said brightly, "This party is to celebrate Chakotay and Seven's return, right? _Not_ my failure?"

Celes baulked at him. "I…I don't know. I never heard you failed at anything…" She began, bemused. "I am glad you're back though, of course." She told Seven and Chakotay hurriedly.

"We all are." Harry broke in, "It was scary for a while there." His focus drifted naturally back to Celes, his smile nervous. "Are you okay with what's on this plate? I had Neelix recommend some things and checked that nothing had Andorian spices…"

Celes blushed prettily. "It's great, thank you Harry." She murmured, reaching for one of the plates he held. "Let me…"

Harry sidestepped her with a chuckle. "It's okay Celes, I…" He gasped as one of the plates wobbled. A big prawn, drenched in sauce, fell to Sandrine's spotless floor. After a few seconds of frozen mortification, he burst out, "Don't worry, that was my plate!" Celes giggled, holding a hand over her mouth.

"I'll give you this tray once I've delivered these drinks Harry." Neelix suggested helpfully as he bounded up, indeed with a tray loaded with bottles of beer and cocktails packed with ice.

"Oh no, it's really okay…"

"I have your beer anyway, I'll just give it to Celes." Neelix grinned encouragingly at the Bajoran, who tentatively claimed Harry's beer but took an immediate fortifying swig of the Mojito she'd ordered. The Talaxian's luminous eyes lit up further when they settled on Seven and Chakotay. "You came!"

"As I keep saying, it's their party." Tom muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Neelix didn't contradict him, even jokingly, his beaming grin widening even more. "It's a good thing I brought over an extra beer and a strawberry piña colada, isn't it?"

"Thanks, Neelix." Chakotay reached over to take the spare beer.

Seven shifted as she cast a longing eye over the tall cocktail glass, a tell-tale deep pink, a whole strawberry floating on the creamy froth. "Unfortunately, my physiology does not tolerate synthehol well." She reminded him.

"Why should the non-drinkers among us be restricted to water? This is a party! Mr Chell wouldn't be much of a trainee bartender if he didn't know how to make virgin cocktails…" His nose scrunched, "That's the right term, isn't it?"

"Yup." Tom assured him, popping the 'p'. "Although it's a little late for B'Elanna…"

"Very late." B'Elanna confirmed dryly as she rubbed her belly while taking a big slurp of her Virgin Bloody Mary. "And nothing at all to do with you."

"I found the recipe myself." Neelix told Seven, "Strawberries, coconut cream, pineapple juice and ice."

"That does sound very…good." Seven conceded, hesitating for a moment before taking the offered glass and a small sip from the straw. An audible hum of pleasure left her before she could stop it, rousing another blush. "Extremely."

"I'd say Chell can get a pass on this lesson then." Chakotay chuckled, smirking fondly at Seven as she turned her head to take bigger gulps of her new beverage.

Seven caught his eye, and the teasing glint there emboldened her once more. "I will provide him with an evaluation report later if you insist, Commander." She answered dryly, brow arched and flamingo pink straw between her teeth.

"Would a second opinion help in that evaluation?" Chakotay asked softly, remaining beside her rather than drifting any closer to the group that was gradually coalescing around them with help of Neelix's drink tray and Tom's role as jovial host. "I'd be willing to assist."

"Do you like strawberries?"

"With you, there's definitely a wrong answer to that question, right?" Chakotay teased.

"Indeed, there is." Seven conceded, her smirk turning shy as she obligingly pressed the glass into his hand. "Here, taste it. So that Chell does not expend energy making a drink you do not like."

Chakotay snorted, "One issue Chell doesn't have is a lack of energy, believe me. But thanks." He took a drink, saved from being poked in the eye by the straw by Seven's quick reflexes. "Hmm." He pronounced, echoing her earlier hum of approval. "It's good."

"It's not too sweet?" Seven queried knowingly, her eyes, which were intent on his face, had noted the briefest of winces.

He chuckled, "For my teeth, maybe." He admitted, "But don't tell Chell."

"That would be to the detriment of our shared evaluation Commander, the one _you_ proposed." Seven pointed out with a glint in her eye. "The Doctor can provide you with medicated toothpaste."

"Oh no, I'm not going that far…" Chakotay argued, laughing. "Mira, let's…change the parameters. You try my beer and see what you think." He saw an uncertain frown start to furrow her brow, mar her playful expression. "Just a taste won't get you intoxicated."

Seven tentatively took the beer, but her reply was dry. "If you say so." With that, she brought it to her lips, but held it away from her as decisively as she'd taken a sip. "Ugh!" Her disgust was so obvious, her whole face scrunching, that Chakotay had to laugh.

"It's an acquired taste." He explained, chuckling. "Do you want to go to Sickbay and wash your mouth out?"

Seven managed to glare at him for turning her tease around on her so aptly, biting her lip to suppress the smile. "I think…" She gave him back his beer, "…It would be better for me to use my limited alcohol tolerance on your toast instead."

Chakotay grinned, holding up the precious bottle. "You'll like this for sure, fruity and sweet."

"Commander!" Neelix exclaimed. For all he'd been engaging with the party, he'd kept a keen eye on them. "Where have you been hiding that? I've been…"

"Looking for the last bottles?" Chakotay finished for him. "Well, I found one for tonight."

B'Elanna's brows arched up towards her ridges, lips turned up in a half smile. "Care to share his hiding place, Seven?" Like the Talaxian, she'd kept watch on Chakotay and the ex-drone. In fact, Neelix had strengthened the inkling, out of left field as it was, just as much as watching the two themselves. Only when glancing towards Harry and Celes did Neelix's proud grin get anywhere near as wide as what he'd been directing towards Chakotay and Seven since the very moment they'd entered the holodeck. So unexpectedly. Together.

"I'm sure her lips are very efficiently sealed." Tom broke in mischievously, "Right, Seven?"

"Right." Seven echoed with a stilted nod, again shifting awkwardly away from Chakotay.

Neelix decided to step in to deflect. B'Elanna was a digger, relentless until she had something figured out, and Tom was her perfect partner in that pursuit with his sharpshooter humour. "As much as I'd like to be let in on the secret, as someone with a few secret supplies held back myself, I won't pry."

"The connoisseur's code of honour." Tom remarked approvingly, with a wink at B'Elanna. She responded with a playful elbow in his side.

"I appreciate that Neelix." Chakotay replied with a chuckle.

"I assume that you're happy to share this particular bottle though?" Neelix asked hopefully.

"Of course…" He easily sidestepped the Talaxian's outstretched hands and Seven took the bottle in her own safe pair without prompting. "…but for the toasts _later_ Neelix." He shook his head to try and clear his ears as the thumping chorus of the Bolian dance track reached its crescendo. "If anybody can hear them." Although they could all hear Golwat calling out her compatriot Chell behind the bar for not taking her on in a dance off. Laughter round the room, Chell's loudest among it all, drowned out the first few chords of the Earth pop tune that followed on, but that too soon established its beat. Chakotay grinned at Tom, "I see you put the latest downloads from the MIDAS array straight to work."

"There's nothing like new music to liven up a party. Especially when you haven't had anything new for seven years."

"I wouldn't have thought we'd have heard that from the King of 20th Century nostalgia." Harry laughed.

"The one and only King is Elvis and you know it, Buster." Tom shot back with a smirk, "And I'll be right back to replicating good old vinyl and the glory days for the next party, but for now…" He gave an exaggerated sigh, "…it's the Federation Hot 100 as of last week, by popular demand."

"Elvis is the King?" B'Elanna questioned him, "I thought that was Michael Jackson?"

"MJ is the King of _Pop_. Elvis is the King of _Rock_." Tom clarified in all seriousness.

"Then who is Ozzy?" B'Elanna asked, blankly innocent.

"He's the Prince of Darkness…"

B'Elanna smiled brightly, "The guy who sings 'Purple Rain'? I've _loved_ that song ever since we…"

"B'Elanna!" Tom cut her off, his pout incredulous and disappointed. "…no. No. Stop."

B'Elanna began to cave, first with a strangled snort, but she soon dissolved into near giggles. "You're too easy Tom!"

"Maybe with you…" Tom retorted, waggling his brows suggestively as he snickered along with her.

"How did Reg take the suggestion of the download Seven?" Chakotay asked, drawing Seven back into the conversation before Tom and B'Elanna overtook it completely.

Seven glanced at him, _he'd_ already heard the story when he'd visited Astrometrics on the day. He must think it worth repeating. "Lieutenant Barclay was extremely enthusiastic…and apologetic for not thinking of such downloads before. I had to take time convincing him the crew were not offended by his oversight. Still, he compensated us well. Not only will we now have a weekly download of the Federation music charts, but the bestselling novels and holodeck programmes too. On the condition, of course, that it does not compromise communication and data transfer through the array."

All the faces around her lit up. "Really?" Tom exclaimed eagerly, scanning her face for a hint of teasing and finding none. "That's great news!"

"Maybe you can follow the Doctor's footsteps and send a few programmes back to the Alpha Quadrant?" B'Elanna encouraged, "As long as Captain Proton doesn't libel us or anything."

"Hey, the Captain has always taken Arachnia as her own…" Tom reminded her, earning smirks all round.

"I think Lieutenant Barclay would do all he could to facilitate you." Seven said, "I know he will be glad to hear that the crew's lives are being enlivened." She noted Celes, left as adrift in the conversation as she had been previously, and turned to her decisively, "It was Crewman Tal's idea to procure the cultural data."

Celes flushed as everyone turned to her, Harry's smile especially wide. "I only wondered aloud about the music…it was Seven who thought to say to Lieutenant Barclay."

Seven shook her head, "It was your 'wondering' which prompted me." She persisted calmly. Very true. She'd always been content with the music in the database, though she'd widened her taste beyond the Doctor's playlists.

"Well…" Celes conceded, "I'll just be glad if anyone likes it as much as I do."

Tom grinned at her encouragingly, "Celes, you've single-handedly saved us from being years out of date on everything when we get back to Earth!"

"You'll always be a little out of date Tom." Harry teased as he looped an arm gently around Celes' waist and smilingly murmured something in her ear that made her giggle softly.

"But by choice!" Tom argued gaily. "There's a definite difference!"

"Sure, there is." Chakotay chuckled with a shake of his head.

"Oh yeah, chief? Can you even hold a beat let alone a tune?"

"Maybe I just don't show off at every opportunity…"

Seven smirked along with B'Elanna at their well-worn antics but Harry and Celes' had withdrawn into their own world.

Harry was speaking self-deprecatingly, "Now you'll not be stuck with my clarinet compositions for a taste of new music."

Celes actually snorted, "You'll be inspired, and I'll listen."

Beyond them, the dancefloor was filling up. A rotation of couples and groups either stepping up or departing for the tables and their waiting drinks as the desire to converse overtook the urge to dance or vice versa. Seven watched the flushed, exuberant faces, shining with pleasure and sweat. There was no consistent style. This certainly wasn't a group waltz. The couples were especially individualistic. More often than not, whatever they were dancing to in their minds seemed to have little to do with the music playing around them. There was no order. No structure. Little to admire in reality. But a spasm of envy passed through her nonetheless, though it was pragmatically brief. She was separate in a wholly different sense. Harry and Celes however, were not. Though he was engaged in their conversation, she saw his eyes skit thoughtfully over the dancefloor. Celes' foot tapped unconsciously along with the music.

There was no reason why _they_ should not dance. "Ens…Harry. I believe the next song to play from the chart features a Bajoran singer. Perhaps Celes would like to dance to it?"

On cue, the music changed and she was proved right. Celes smiled as she heard her own, naturally melodic, language start to ring out through Sandrine's, as part of a band that included a human, a Tellerite and an Andorian. Though Bajor hadn't been formally made part of the Federation yet, winning the war with the Dominion together had obviously led to a growing cultural interest between the communities. Celes' smile faltered though as what Seven had said sunk in, regarding Harry nervously. For his part, the Ops Officer looked like a deer in headlights.

Guilt swamped Seven. Why had she presumed to say such a thing? She would not have responded well to such a manoeuvre herself, not that there would've been any call for one, and here she was deploying it on her friends.

However, B'Elanna instantly picked up her suggestion and pushed it further. "Yeah, you two better escape while you can before Tom and Chakotay declare a dance battle and empty the floor."

Both Harry and Celes laughed awkwardly as Tom and Chakotay responded to B'Elanna's remarks with twin ruffled expressions. Celes regarded Harry meekly through her eyelashes, swallowing. "We don't have to, Harry…"

Seeing her nerves pushed Harry's own away and pulled out his caring confidence. "I _want_ to Celes." He assured her firmly, gently clasping her hands and leading her out on to the floor. As the young Bajoran began to stand tall, Harry flashed a grateful smile in Seven and B'Elanna's direction over her shoulder before the two of them merged with the other dancers.

B'Elanna stared at Seven with fresh, approving eyes, though her eyebrows once again met her ridges. "How'd you do that? We've been trying to push those two along for weeks…"

"Maybe we just didn't try a direct enough approach, Be'Nal." Tom broke in, with his eyes also thoughtfully on Seven, "Seven sees them in Astrometrics together, remember?"

Seven met his gaze levelly, "My lips are efficiently sealed."

Beside her, Chakotay's rich laugh hummed in her ears, sending a shiver up her spine. Tom grinned at her, eyes sparkling. "Touché."

"I think I want to take a turn around the floor too." B'Elanna said suddenly, touching Chakotay's arm for attention just as he'd opened his mouth to say something to Seven. "How about it, hermano?"

"Hey, don't I get first dibs?" Tom protested jokingly.

"Don't pretend we haven't scandalised Sandrine already." B'Elanna reminded him, her voice husky as she planted a playful kiss on his cheek. "And besides, Chakotay needs to defend himself against accusations of having no rhythm, and who better to help him do that then me? Unless you're saying _I'm_ not a good dancer?"

"I wouldn't dare." Tom replied wryly, "And we all know…" He looked at Seven and Chakotay, "…that Sandrine can't be scandalised, I didn't program her that way. Everything goes."

B'Elanna silenced him with a look, her focus on Chakotay, whose handsome face veered between amusement and irritated resignation. The latter told her she really did need to investigate. "¡Venga! ¡Baila conmigo!" she pressed in a tone that would brook no argument, but she did turn to his…companion. "Seven, you don't mind, do you?"

Seven's perplexed frown as she shook her head so clearly telegraphed her unspoken thought, 'Why would I mind?' that B'Elanna felt bad for putting the ex-drone on the spot. And justified in having to know what was going through Chakotay's head. On impulse, she gave Seven's arm a gentle squeeze. "This might be the night to try that new…coiffure you were thinking about before, okay?" she murmured quickly before stepping back and extending a hand to Chakotay, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Chakotay replied good-naturedly, just about resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You'll be fine…" Tom assured, "You've got Starfleet issue reinforced boots on, right?"

"I heard that Tom Paris!" B'Elanna retorted indignantly. Chakotay saved him by pulling her along with him onto the dancefloor.

"Let's sit back and see who survives…" Tom said with a chuckle.

"Indeed." Seven answered distractedly, her hand wandering up to her hair. Why had B'Elanna said that just then? There was no reason for her to recall that conversation… Though of course she had to admit such personal questions were not usual between them, it had obviously stuck in the engineer's mind. But what had made her correlate that question to anything this evening? Was it possible that Lieutenant Torres knew about her simulations, about the subject of them? No. Absolutely not. She'd been careful. And as for being here with Chakotay tonight… She swallowed. No, she wasn't that transparent. Perhaps, she considered, looking around, it was just because she stood out. Every other attendee was in full casual wear, and her appearance now was unchanged. Not that she had, or wished for, a uniform. Tonight would've been one of those times when she could have replicated something, but she had not expected truly expected to attend for more than an obligatory few moments to assuage the Doctor and the Captain's worries before Chakotay had come to accompany her. To tell him she wasn't ready, to replicate an outfit in haste and change while he waited… Staying in the biosuit and appearing prepared and composed had been preferable. Given the reaction to her arrival, her wearing anything other than what people were accustomed to would've created even more unwanted and unwarranted 'buzz'.

"Are you okay Seven?" Tom asked, concerned. Maybe he shouldn't have allowed B'Elanna to corner Chakotay away from the blonde, not in the middle of the party. It could've waited, especially if Chakotay was the confidence boost she needed to have some rare fun. He frowned as he watched her pat her hair. "Is your hair caught?" It would be little wonder, with all those pins and the zip of the biosuit so far up her neck.

Seven blinked, her hand dropping hastily back to her side. "N…perhaps."

"Sandrine has a big mirror behind the bar, if you want to…" Tom suggested kindly. "Or I can…"

Seven quickly shook her head, "No, I…" Her brows furrowed thoughtfully as she looked at him, her hands returning to her hair. "This is a casual situation, is it not?"

Tom smiled, he suspected the question was mostly rhetorical, but Seven always liked confirmation. "It's a party Seven."

"Well then…" She started with the pins, plucking each one out easier than the last. "I suppose I should conform as much as possible." Finally, she grasped the main clip. She would follow B'Elanna's advice, this once. What had the Doctor said? Shake. Her hair obligingly cascaded down her shoulders. The memory of her reflection in that red dress passed through her mind, thankfully fleetingly. She was in her biosuit. She still had her implants. But she could change something for one night surely. It was minor. It was no threat to her failsafe.

"Wow, Seven…" Tom gave an astonished chuckle, but he wasn't blinded enough by the change to not see Seven's hands wring apprehensively over the hair clip and pins. He quickly took them from her, spotting the red marks on her palms where she'd already let the plastic dig deep. "I'll just sit those here, okay?" he told her, dropping the pins onto the drinks tray and tossing the clip after them. As he did so, he glared in the direction he'd heard a few wolf whistles ring out. Idiots. Though in years gone by he would've joined in…maybe this was his soon to be needed fatherly side revealing itself. Shaking his head, and pointedly pushing the tray away from her (maybe there had been some synthehol in that piña colada after all), he flashed her an encouraging smile. "It's great to see you finally letting your hair down!"

Seven's smirk in reply was a little uncertain. "I presume you mean in the metaphorical sense of 'having fun', not that you were especially invested in how I style my hair."

Tom rewarded that reply with a broad laugh. "You presume rightly, although I do approve!" Given the looks Seven was getting, from stunned to envious to leering, he could've added that everyone did on some level. And it seemed like some of the crew would've happily 'invested' in Seven tonight. Even if B'Elanna was giving Chakotay a complete dressing down right now, the chief would forget it when he saw her again for sure. He found that the thought pleased, rather than bothered or amused him. Maybe he'd better prepare her. "So, now that you've decided to have fun, let's stop being wallflowers! Our dates may have abandoned us for the moment, but…"

Seven frowned, already swiping a strand of hair behind her ear. "Chakotay is n…" She stopped. Tom _knew_ that. There was no point drawing attention to the fact. That it had even occurred to her. Which it had not. "You and B'Elanna are married. Does attending an event together still classify as a 'date'?"

Tom knew what she was sidestepping and let her. "I don't know…just a turn of phrase. It definitely will when we need to _arrange_ our nights out around babysitting…" He cocked his head at her, "You're still up for that when the time comes, right?"

Seven shot him a look. "Of course." She assured him. Though she didn't foresee them asking her, she wasn't sure if her experience with the children counted for much in the wider crew's eyes.

Tom relaxed exaggeratedly, "Good! But that's a couple of weeks off, so let's have fun now, have a dance…" He saw her expression cloud over and prodded her playfully. "What, the Borg don't boogie?"

"No Tom." Seven replied patiently, suppressing a sigh. "The Borg do not 'boogie'. And _I_ can't dance."

"You can walk, can't you?" Tom challenged, "Grasp hands? It's easy. Just give it a try…" He wheedled, shaking his head in exasperation and throwing his hands in the air. "Loosen up, will ya baby doll? It takes more than hair!"

Seven arched her trademark brow at him, her horror at the thought of dancing pushed to the back of mind by the relentless tenacity of Tom Paris. She crossed her arms over her chest, "Mid-twentieth Century American slang again? Is that appropriate here?"

"Meh…" Tom shrugged, "It's the right time period, and Sandrine already knows I'm an interloper to France, surname or not. Anyway, stop distracting me sister. I'm going to make you jitterbug if it kills me."

Seven winced at his wording, though a dislocated shoulder could not be considered a life-threatening injury. She sighed, shaking the memory off, and smirked wearily at Tom as he started to move with the music. She stayed stock still. "That would be a rather pointless reason to die."

He chuckled, "Well, if you _really_ don't want to dance…" He sank down into the nearest chair, taking a refreshing gulp of beer. "…then we'll just have to sit here and talk about your adventure with Chakotay. I'm all ears."

"Our 'adventure' was an away mission." Seven corrected, "We have both filed reports with the Captain. If you wish to read them, I can…"

"Reading those reports would be almost as boring as trying to teach those blow hard Ledosians." Tom interrupted with a snort, "But that was the plan, and Chakotay crashed you right off that plan." He shook his head at her wryly, "And off plan means there _will_ be juicy details that neither of you would've put in the report."

"Chakotay could not have predicted the shield's existence. It was an extreme anomaly…"

"An anomaly that you would've avoided if he'd followed the oh so efficient flight plan you filed with the Ledosians." Tom reminded her with a knowing look, "I'd bet you were _pissed_ at him."

Seven huffed at him. He would win that hypothetical bet, but she wasn't going to concede that far. "I was…frustrated, yes." She admitted, "There were disagreements."

"Butting heads." He remarked sagely, "I can imagine it. I'll just remember the time the three of us were in the graviton ellipse and substitute 'trapped in the ellipse' for 'stranded on a primitive world'."

"Tom…"

"But you made up, right?" he said with a smile, "Or else you'd both be brooding, not here at the party."

Seven coloured slightly. She could not imagine Chakotay brooding over any lingering animosity with _her_. He had come to the Cargo Bay to offer his apologies as soon as he'd had the opportunity, but he would've done that for anyone. Whether she would've thank everyone in response… "If we had not worked together, we would not have escaped successfully." She informed Tom, thoughtfully adding, as her thoughts drifted back to the Cargo Bay, "We have since both conceded that we each had valid points to our arguments on the planet."

Now it was Tom's turn to quirk an amused eyebrow. "Oh? That's a good sign, B'Elanna and I still rarely agree that we're both right!"

A good sign? Seven frowned at him, reaching across and reclaiming her drink to wet her dry mouth. She looked over at the dancefloor, then back at Tom, sighing to herself. "Would you still rather dance than talk?"

Tom flashed her an impish grin, "I would." He declared as he moved to lead her out onto the floor.

* * *

"Trying to melt our resident our resident Ice Princess with a little of that Latin fire?" Chakotay stopped mid stride and only the gap in their dance hold to allow for her bump stopped her from colliding with him. He'd known what she was doing, had as soon as she'd singled him out; but since she'd not confronted him head on before they'd even met the pace of the dancing, he'd hoped he'd missed a bullet. More like biding her time. "What?" she queried fearlessly, gaze challenging. "Have I stepped on your toes?" His answer was a long exhale through his nose. "Chakotay, come on." She said softly, exasperation joining affectionate ribbing and incredulity. "You haven't been subtle." Self-consciousness flickered across his gaze, and she smirked. "Not that subtlety would sink in with her…" She began to concede.

"B'Elanna..." Chakotay's deep voice rumbled with warning as he cut her off. Impatience was suddenly stark on his face. "Leave her be." His eyes flared with that 'Latin fire'.

B'Elanna stilled, quickly giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. An unvoiced 'I'm on your side'. It was rare that Chakotay showed much indication that she'd got under his skin, that anyone had. What did that say about Seven, she wondered? "Just…cool it a little with private jokes and the _promises_ in Spanish?" she advised, "And order your own drinks for Kahless' honour's sake! You don't want to be giving the rumour mill gristle to ground up and spit out if there isn't much to it…" She found herself mentally adding 'yet', though the pessimist, or realist, in her hurriedly amended it to 'ever'.

"The drinks?" Chakotay echoed, managing to roll his eyes. Even as he remembered how much he'd had to focus to stop himself drinking out of her straw. He shook his head stubbornly. "This isn't middle school…"

"Right." B'Elanna confirmed dryly, "It's Voyager, so it's ten times worse."

Chakotay sighed again, "Maybe, but…" He tossed his head dismissively and on impulse as the song entered its closing chorus, gave her a little spin. "…it doesn't matter."

"Chakotay, you know I still get sick…" B'Elanna groused weakly, one hand hurriedly going to support her belly as a wave of dizziness struck.

Chakotay steadied her immediately. "Perdóname, 'Lanna." He said sheepishly, peering down at her stomach with guilty eyes.

She waved him off with a wry chuckle, "De nada. But don't do it again. You can save it for…" Her laughter strengthened as she recognised she'd lost his attention. His gaze was fixated somewhere over her shoulder, and her suspicion was confirmed as to what, _who_ , it was as soon as she twisted around to see. Well, she'd finally listened to her on first telling. Maybe that boded well for Engineering… She snorted to herself, biting down on the grin starting on her lips. There was no hesitation to hold Chakotay in place as his feet started to follow the pull of his eyes. "Whoa…" She ignored his irritated glance. "Slow down. Tom is no Chapman."

Chakotay's eyes narrowed into slits at once. "How…"

"Tom felt guilty enough to spill his guts." B'Elanna answered with a shrug, her face darkening for a moment. "Don't worry, I made it hurt." He relaxed a fraction and she concluded it wasn't the time to enlighten, or remind, him that the basic facts of that incident at least were well enough known. Tom and the Doctor had been too proud of the prospect of getting one over on each other for their wager to remain a secret, and the Ambassador's reception had been painfully public. Chapman though, as far as she knew, had been discreet and Chakotay had clamped down hard on any talk even then. The Maquis had played their part too, ensuring in numerous ways that word of quite how awry things had gone while she'd left their leader in the 'big chair' had never reached the Captain's ears. "What I'm saying…" She told him patiently, "…is that Seven of Nine doesn't need rescuing."

Chakotay gave his old friend a long look. "Did it occur to you that I want to dance with her for me?" he finally replied with a flash of a lopsided, dimpled smile.

B'Elanna looked over at Seven, who was hanging onto Tom and gamely shadowing his dance moves. The only signs of Borg staidness were the sceptical looks each of the more extravagant moves earned. She saw him having to convince her to play along, but he would've had to do that with nearly anyone. It was just a particularly funny scene with Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One as his foil. Her loose hair floated around her flushed, smiling cheeks. She looked young. Almost normal. "Just don't make Seven your midlife crisis." She cautioned, only half joking.

Chakotay's eyes flicked to hers. "Thanks for reminding me of my age, Bee." He muttered, but still seemed buoyed up. Just like Seven.

"Anytime." She assured him solemnly, laughing as he pulled her towards them.

* * *

Tom felt Seven freeze before he spotted Chakotay and B'Elanna approaching them. He quickly stopped dancing to cover for her, make it seem as if their fun had just reached its natural end. He turned enquiring eyes on B'Elanna, who kept a sedate pace compared to Chakotay's intent stride. "All done?" With the interrogation went unsaid, communicated to his wife by the amused glint in his gaze, the almost wink as he glanced, lightning quick, between Seven and Chakotay.

B'Elanna's full lips twitched. "For the moment." She declared, also glancing furtively at the other two.

Tom just smiled, glad that she seemed mostly satisfied, though he knew perfectly well what their private conversations for the rest of the night would entail. "We've been doing great…" He turned to his reluctant partner, "…haven't we Seven?" She nodded, the thin curve of her lips a placating shadow of the wry, pleased half smile during their dancing.

"Us too." B'Elanna slid up to her husband's side as she pulled a playful pout. "Although he did spin me." Tom tutted his outrage loudly, shooting Chakotay an exaggerated glare, but the older man barely heeded him. As she relaxed under the arm Tom threw over her shoulders, she smiled at Seven. For once the easier bet since she looked nervous, rather than stunned like Chakotay. "That's a nice change Seven, having your hair down suits you." She meant it, though she had to internally add that it wouldn't suit most people's perception of the dour ex-drone, would even be jarring. That aside, it did absolutely flatter her, softening her striking face. Chakotay wasn't jarred, if anything he was struck dumb. If she had still been beside him she would've elbowed him in the ribs. As it was, she was tempted to leave Tom to do just that, or 'step' on his foot.

Seven hesitated, uncertain, for a split second before shyly inclining her head. "Thank you, B'Elanna." She replied, voice deliberate and grateful.

Tom actually did start to reach out to poke Chakotay, but he easily avoided him, roused by Seven's voice. A smile broke out over his face; wide, warm and characteristically dimpled. Reassuring. "Perfect for dancing." He told her softly, "Did you have fun?"

Drawn out by what the cynical would've assumed was his wording, and the romantic would've believed was his smile, Seven met his gaze, her response easy. "More than I anticipated."

Tom puffed up with pride and nudged her, "Told ya baby doll, didn't I?"

Seven mirrored B'Elanna's eyeroll. "Yes." She replied succinctly, making the Paris couple both snigger. Her attention soon returned to Chakotay though, pulled like a magnet.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked, trying to sound light, not too intense, but also utterly serious. She rocked ever so slightly on her heels, leaning back from him a fraction, as she blinked. He rubbed the back of his neck, "I think this might be the last of the dancing before the buffet really gets underway, so it needn't be for long…"

"That is an irrelevant consideration." Seven cut him off abruptly. His face started to fall despite himself but then he saw that she was smiling at him. Only a note reticence in her face, her blue eyes looking at him through her lashes rather than bright and direct, robbed the smile of that unguarded radiance he'd vowed to see again. She touched his hand. "We will dance if you wish."

He beamed at her, clasping the hand she'd offered. "I do."

Tom smiled at their backs at they drifted onto the dancefloor. "Aww, they're all grown up and spreading their wings…" He shot B'Elanna a pained look as she swatted him. "What? It could be nice."

"He's serious Tom." B'Elanna said quietly, "I don't know if it's hit him how seriously he's taking her, but he is."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Tom murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Come on, I know you played fairy godmother there. You left some sort of hint for her." He spotted her lips turning up ruefully in admission, "You don't even regret doing that, so…"

B'Elanna answered with a gentle snort. "No, I don't." She conceded, surprised at herself. "Just as long as she doesn't turn back into a pumpkin at midnight." Her lips pursed, "I don't want him to get hurt." She sighed, "Or either of them really."

Tom paused for a moment, then answered thoughtfully. "He's a patient man." He reminded her, "And one who'll enjoy the challenge."

B'Elanna had to nod at that, then muttered in exasperation. "Did _she_ say anything about this away mission?"

"Not much." Tom replied, "But reading between the lines, some bickering…and some soul searching."

B'Elanna met her husband's gaze, a slow smirk dawning. "Oh no…"

Tom chucked, "Now B'Elanna, if anyone knows it takes more than one away mission, it's us."

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **Ayala: 'Very well, boss. Fantastic…crazy…'**

 **Chakotay: 'Seven, you promised me…'**

 **B'Elanna: 'What did you promise?'**

 **B'Elanna: 'Come on! Dance with me!'**

 **Chakotay: 'Sorry, 'Lanna…'**

 **A/n: Obviously there will be another chapter, lol. This party is proving a big one! Please review! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: Massive thanks to my beta TheLadyMage, you know which bits you improved!**

 **I do not own Star Trek: Voyager.**

* * *

The party was by now in full swing, and reports that it was going well, worth attending, had obviously leaked throughout the ship, given how many new arrivals were flooding in now and trading places with friends who'd agreed earlier in the day to take over part of a shift. These kind of favours, negotiations and trades were essential to the smooth running of Voyager's social calendar, but anyone would've seen at a glance that the duty shifts would be skeletal right now. The reluctant trickle back out onto the decks was nothing compared to the eager flow inwards. Perhaps the senior staff should've set about redressing the balance, but in Sandrine's there was little distinction made between ranks that friendship groups didn't reinforce anyway, and off-duty meant off-duty. Any emergency that might befall them would snap them all back to attention, there was trust enough in that after seven years.

Like the party itself, the dancefloor was in transition. The music's tempo had changed, was slowing further with each song. It served as a signal. The larger, raucous groups were marching off, making a beeline, as Chakotay had predicted, for the buffet tables. Where Neelix was waiting, with open arms and stacked plates. The couples drifted on more sedately, but just as predictably. Although as Seven let Chakotay lead her into the current of people, this was the last thing she'd anticipated. She wasn't the only one, given the glances being thrown their way as they passed. But they were brief for the most part, no longer than her own gaze would linger on each familiar face. Doubt gnawed at her gut even as exhilaration sped up her spine, traitorously fed by the warmth of Chakotay's hand secure around hers. Her legs felt shaky, untrustworthy. Not the best support for dancing. She might've been tempted to blame the floor's spring, but since she'd danced just minutes ago on the same floor with Tom, her stubborn sense of honesty wouldn't allow the excuse, even to herself.

The crowd suddenly bunched tighter and Seven couldn't quite suppress her cringe. In sharp contrast to the laughter that rang out from those around her. Though Chakotay's response was a softer chuckle, less abrasive on her senses, as he subtly guided her away from the brief crush. The cause was soon clear. A long line of crewmembers, each holding the one in front by the waist, snaked from the DJ booth and over the dancefloor. Chell, having abandoned his post behind the bar, was at its head, sashaying his hips in an exaggerated fashion that his followers, with varying levels of success and humour, were attempting to mimic. Seven's eyes flicked between that spectacle and Chakotay's face, her brow edging up. She could say so much without voicing anything. "It's a conga line."

Seven just nodded. She suspected that any explanation wouldn't make it any clearer for her. "An exercise in cooperation." She commented with a wry smirk.

Chakotay chuckled again, more freely as he met her eyes. "Yes, yes, it is." He agreed, raising a hand to Chell in greeting.

Chell waved back with enthusiasm, shooting his old leader a knowing grin. "Don't worry Commander, we're moving off! Dance away!" He just winked as Chakotay's jaw half dropped, leading his conga off the dancefloor and back towards the bar.

Seven watched a sheepish smile flit over Chakotay's face and tensed, anticipating his withdrawal with her, a murmured excuse, or even a joke in the same tone as Chell. Proof that this dance was a favour, a friendly gesture she was misconstruing. But even as he rubbed the back of his neck in that habitual expression of discomfiture, his other hand made no move to release hers. Though it occurred to her it might be wise to pull away now, she couldn't will herself to do it. Her eyes closed for an instant as she reasoned herself back to calm. Finding the rhythm in the music helped, it travelled in a predictable beat from the floor, through her feet and up through the rest of her body. What caught her eyes next was what really helped her relax though. Harry and Celes. They'd had a head start on most of the other pairs on the floor but showed no sign of pausing. The young Bajoran looked the most relaxed she'd ever seen her; leaning into Harry and laughing with sparkling eyes. Harry was grinning, wide and proud, laughing himself as Celes responded to him. A fraction more concentration would've let Seven hear their conversation, but seeing that glimpse of their happy bubble was sufficient. Their words meant more to each other than they ever would to her.

"It's going well." Chakotay commented softly beside her.

Seven looked over at him, feeling a blush bloom as it registered that his eyes were wholly on her, not Harry and Celes. She belatedly realised she'd been smiling. "It would appear so." She replied warmly, ducking her head shyly as she heard the wistful note in her voice. Her hips, which had been unconsciously swaying to the music, stilled.

"They're certainly following your advice."

"No." Seven refuted with a shake of her head, "They are doing what they want…and I would not have it another way." Her thoughtful tone gave way to an awkward shudder. "I am hardly a matchmaker."

Chakotay couldn't stop himself from throwing a fleeting glance back towards B'Elanna and Tom, who were still deep in conversation. He hardly needed to guess on one of their topics. "Matchmaking can be a messy business." He answered, "It's better just to encourage, like you did."

She gave a polite nod, but swallowed. For her, it always seemed 'messy'. The Doctor and Tom's gamble on her dating prowess had not paid off for any of them, and the Captain's encouragement of her relationship with Axum, though coming from a much more selfless perspective, had led Voyager into a dangerous mission and herself, ultimately, deeper into loss. As for her own experiments on the holodeck, they'd been worse than messy. Almost deadly, as the Doctor would remind her.

"Are you okay?" Chakotay asked, peering at her as he gulped himself. Her gaze had turned inward, the genuine pleasure for Harry and Celes shifting into something sadder, more resigned. "We can…"

His concerned voice snapped Seven's attention back to him. The uncertainty in his face made her heart squeeze guiltily. Here he was, being kind and courteous to her, and she was giving the impression that it was…insufficient. Which it shouldn't be. Forcing herself to hold his gaze, she made a decisive move to position herself. Her hand on his upper arm was much more tentative, barely there. "We can dance?" she checked.

Chakotay visibly relaxed, though he managed to hold in his exhale of relief, grinning at her instead. The sincerity of it was reward enough for Seven's moment of boldness. "Yeah, we can." He confirmed as he tenderly clasped that nervous hand and placed it more firmly on his shoulder. Seven managed to suppress all but the beginnings of a shiver; the heat of his body easily seeped through his thin shirt. Her thumb brushed his open collar. Testing the water, he put his own free hand gently on her waist, ready to pull away the instant she tensed, but touching him had evidently been the hurdle. Damn Chapman and his incompetent dancing! He could picture the scene, Chapman hovering, mute, while Seven was left floundering, yanking his shoulder out as she tried to copy manoeuvres she'd likely never even paid proper attention to before, let alone attempted to perform. Okay, maybe he was being harsh on the hapless Chapman, but for Seven to be left so wary after all this time wasn't fair… "I'll lead, okay?"

Seven responded with a distracted, apprehensive smirk, quickly looking up at him through her lashes. "You're the Commander."

Chakotay laughed, "Dancing wasn't an elective at the Academy, so rank doesn't mean much in this instance."

It might not have, but they'd begun to dance nonetheless. "Tom Paris has never given you a tutorial in the 'jitterbug'?" Seven enquired wryly.

"That's when I _would_ pull rank!" Chakotay assured her quickly, chortling.

"I did not have that option."

"Are you angling for a promotion Crewman?" he teased. She only snorted in reply, which pushed him on. "Not yet then." As they turned on the edge of the floor, he dropped her hand to bring his to join its partner around her waist.

Her brow formed a pointed arch to her hairline as she instinctively mirrored his shift in position without conscious though, bringing her now free hand up to his shoulder. It gave her all the more leverage to look him straight in the eye. "Be careful Commander." She warned, tongue firmly, if not literally, in cheek. "I believe there is a human phrase…'ask and you shall receive'."

"Maybe I will." Chakotay responded boldly, eyes sparking. But he regretted his playful forwardness just a little when a flush dawned on Seven's face as the double entendre in her words and his reply hit her. Her gaze immediately dropped down to her feet. "I promise I'm trying to avoid stepping on your feet." He told her in a self-deprecating tone.

That drew her face back up to his, amusement pushing back against embarrassment. "B'Elanna was not exaggerating?"

"Oh, she was…" He chuckled to himself, "…but not by much. B'Elanna loves to tease me but, unfortunately, she tends to have some basis." He felt his stomach clench as he thought of what B'Elanna had just teased him about: Seven.

"I will…take your word on that." Seven answered, the teasing lilt to her own lips pulling at his insides in a very different way. "I have reinforced arches…though my toes are as fragile as those of any human…"

Chakotay clicked his heels together. "Consider me warned. Your toes are safe."

"I will assess their condition when we have finished dancing…"

Chakotay's eyes bugged before he guffawed. "Just not in front of B'Elanna!"

"You wouldn't…live that down?" She laughed, and his memory of it startling him the night before hadn't done her justice. Her own eyes widened, and her hand started a self-conscious path to her mouth as she felt him gazing at her, rather than tossing back a casual reply. Had she gone too far with teasing? "I would not really do…" She began earnestly.

Chakotay blinked, jolted back to the moment by the doubt shadowing her face and voice. Her confidence fluctuated so much. If he could just draw her out and keep her with him. "I hope so." He said, keeping his tone light but his gaze steady, reassuring. "Because you're right, I really wouldn't live that down. Might be even worse than the endless shuttle jokes."

"That's doubtful." Seven replied, shaking her head as she smiled. "My toes would need to be damaged multiple times through several dances before it became eligible for such a running joke."

"Oh, so you'd dance with me again then?"

There was an instant of hesitation. Surprise. "Yes." She confirmed.

"Good." He guided them into a particularly fast and what he thought was an elegant turn. Showing off, but when else could he? "But you wouldn't go on another away mission with me?"

She cocked her head, her expression thoughtful. "That depends, Commander…"

"Chakotay, Seven."

"Chakotay…" She amended softly, "…would there be dancing?"

"Well, that depends…" He considered, mirroring her head tilt. "If there was, would you come?" She laughed again. The sound intoxicated him. Words flowed easily. "Because I would spin you around the aft of a shuttle if it meant I could have someone to talk to about more than what is going on in the world of Captain Propane or whatever it is Tom is obsessed over…"

Seven bit her lip to swallow her snicker. Tom would not forgive that mistake. It wasn't only laughter that bubbled up, making her feel light. Daring even. She was happy. "Oh, is that the only reason why?"

Chakotay hoped the heat he could feel rushing to his cheeks wasn't visible. That her enhanced vision couldn't pick out any level of blush. "No. Not the only reason, I…"

A sudden collision into his shoulder cut him off, sending him jerking forward. Only Seven's quick reflexes kept them both from falling to the floor. "Sorry!" A feminine voice, one of the Delaney sisters, squealed breathlessly. She landed a light swat on her partner's arm. " _Someone_ should watch where they're going!"

"I was!" Gerron protested, laughing. "You were the one facing forward Meg!" He turned on the charm as easily as she pulled the playful pout. "Okay, since we were on a turn, it can be mostly my fault…" His eyes widened, his expression becoming contrite as his attention left his date and saw his victims. "I really am sorry, boss. Are you both okay?"

Chakotay shook his head good-humouredly, "My ego is a bit bruised, but I'm fine." He offered Seven an embarrassed smile and laugh, she was still taking the precaution of holding him up. "Are your toes okay?"

She laughed, "I moved out of the way in time to avoid injury." She assured him with a smirk.

"¡Qué alivio!" He joked. Seven shook her head at him, a giggle escaping her lips as she pulled her feet a little further back. Neither noticed Megan and Gerron exchanging mystified glances. The latter had never heard Seven laugh at all before, while Megan had heard the occasional muffled chuckle around the Borg children while on duty in their haven of Astrometrics, but she was certain that hearing her laugh twice in a minute was a miraculous record.

"We're really sorry." Megan repeated, ignoring Gerron's hints that they should resume dancing and leave their questions unanswered. "We obviously got carried away…" She laughed herself, addressing Seven with earnest, and intensely curious, eyes.

"It would seem so." Seven replied patiently. Chakotay stifled a snicker, catching the minute twitch of her brow.

"It happens, don't worry about it." He told Megan easily.

"I guess it does happen." She agreed, "Especially on such a busy dancefloor. It's such a great party, right?" She noted their nods, both more enthused than she was used to seeing from the First and Astrometrics Officers. One of the only things she was sure they had in common was reserve. "The Captain just arrived to join the fun, Commander…"

"That's good to hear." Chakotay replied, his tone pleasant but otherwise disinterested. He made no sign of being tempted to go off in search of her; his eyes didn't even scan the room! Megan wasn't quite ready to give up her fishing expedition however.

"It is, isn't it? She hardly ever seems to have any downtime, other than her dinners with you…"

"Who does have any real downtime in this ship?" Gerron interrupted, growing exasperated as well as bored with this line of enquiry. Usually he found the exaggerated gossip that Megan, her sister and friends liked to indulge in fun, but this was stale and the big pinch of salt his years of friendship with Chakotay provided made it more so. "No offence to those who set up the duty shifts…" He added with a wry smile.

"None taken." Chakotay assured him with a chuckle, "Unfortunately it's the truth."

"More so now that we need to rebuild _another_ shuttle…"

Chakotay looked at Seven in joking despair, "It's starting again and we've only been back 24 hours…"

"32 hours." Seven corrected, "So I think Crewman Gerron is within his rights to resurrect the 'running joke'…"

Chakotay bowed his head to her playfully, "I suppose I should defer to your judgement…"

The teasing glint in her eyes brightened to a sparkle. "You should."

"That's just good manners, chivalry and all." Megan joined in while casting a speculative glance over the two of them. Jenny wouldn't believe this, she'd need to have Gerron with her to back it up… "And Seven…" She started, "…no offence to you either. Not that you don't work us all hard in Astrometrics, but you certainly…lead by example." Tonight was the first time she'd seen the ex-drone outside of the lab for months. Even counting the Mess Hall. To see her actively enjoying a party was remarkable.

"I also took no offence." Looking at Megan, Seven couldn't help but feel inadequately dressed once again. Though objectively the Ensign's glamourous attire actually stood out among most of the crew, but Seven wasn't feeling very objective. She knew that Megan's sleek black cocktail dress and the twinkle of her dangling costume jewellery earrings against her glossy dark curls stood out in the most positive of senses, while she was perhaps the opposite.

"I'm glad you're having fun now." Megan told her with an encouraging smile, eyes flicking briefly to Chakotay before settling back on Seven. "And keep your hair like that, it's more relaxed."

"Thank you." Seven replied shyly, feeling guilty about her moment of jealousy. "I will…keep that in mind."

"You should!" Megan enthused with a wink she thought was sly towards Chakotay. "Come on Gerron, let's dance while people know to give us a wide berth on the floor…"

"It wasn't my fault…" Gerron griped, but led her away by the hand none the less.

"Those two are quite the pair." Chakotay commented.

"Yes. Quite the pair." Seven echoed.

He clasped her hands again, bringing one back towards the comfortable crook of his neck. "Let's pick up where we left off."

Seven beamed at him, unguarded of her pleasure in her surprise. It was only when he grinned back, eyes visibly warming and darkening, that self-awareness dimmed her glow. Her gaze flicked away, beyond the dancefloor to the rest of the party. "If the Captain is here, the majority of the crew will be also. Perhaps you should be preparing your toast."

"I'm not ready for that!" Chakotay protested lightly. He knew she was providing him with a way out, but he hoped she knew he wasn't going to take it and that the cue was habitual rather than pointed. No, she wasn't pushing him away consciously, not with that smile. Dazzling as it was. "Unless you want to write it for me?"

Seven answered with a wry laugh. The release drew her other hand back up to join its twin on his shoulders, though this time they met at the nape of his neck. "That is not my area of expertise." She reminded him, "And I already provided you with the cider…"

"Which was mine!" he retorted with a snort, but faced with her smirk and arched brow he conceded. "Okay, so it was your good idea, but…"

"Don't worry Chakotay, I'm certain you will get the credit." She interrupted, amused.

He shook his head, "Let's see how it goes before we talk about credit. Right now I want to keep dancing. You do trust me not to crash, right? You may be distracting me from my toast writing, but not quite enough to collide with other dancers…"

"I should hope not." Seven cut him off, "I do trust you." She hesitated, swallowing as she hated her almost flippant tone. It was herself she didn't trust. She cleared her throat, looking over his shoulder. "Crewman Gerron and Ensign Delaney are on the other side of the floor."

"Then we'll definitely stay where we are." It was easier that way anyway, the floor was getting even more crowded as the music slowed further. They were all swaying now, hardly moving. Or Seven was swaying. She carried off the movement much better than he did. Her lips were soundlessly echoing the song, and he happily let that fill the lull in conversation. He'd watch her hold a note a little longer or count out the beat. Every so often he'd catch her lips puckering to blow a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes. It was those instants where he'd become aware of how close their bodies were. How human she was. How alive he felt. "You do look more relaxed." He told her in a low murmur. He had to say something to break himself out of this or he might just… "I'm glad you were able to let your hair down."

Seven's eyes, which had been unfocused and content, met his piercingly. Suddenly he was sure she could read his thoughts. "Tom Paris expressed a similar sentiment." She replied, "Is there a myth circulating on board that my hair is glued to my head?"

Chakotay thought for a split second that he'd offended her, but the slight teasing smile and the dry tone he was learning to read told him otherwise. "Not as far as I know." He assured her with a chuckle, "I was just speaking figuratively. Though it _is_ beautiful like this. You should leave it down more often."

"I…" A rosy blush blossomed over Seven's face. "…thank you." Part of said hair started to fall in front of her face like a veil of spun gold as she glanced away from him to compose herself. "It…seemed appropriate…" She began in a steadier voice, "…though it is perhaps not the most efficient style for this activity…" She raised a shaking hand to pull her hair away, again unthinkingly trying to blow it away. She'd always been doing that as a child, until Mamma would make her sit still while she braided it…

Chakotay couldn't resist. Any more than he could suppress the sparks of desire, not simple admiring attraction, blatant sharper _desire_ running through him. He reached out and tucked the longest lock of hair behind her ear, letting it curl in his palm, his fingers trail momentarily down her jawline… It was either that or kiss those full, enticing lips. Mierda, B'Elanna was right. Or at least had pushed his thoughts in this confusing, all-encompassing, direction. Or she'd just yanked his blinkers off, but Seven herself probably had more to do with that. Her blush deepened so much that guilt prickled at him. They'd, it hadn't just been him, been pushing at boundaries, whether to deeper friendship or something else; but none of that meant she wasn't easily scared. He decided to shrug it off, but his next gentle smile had a tremor of apology in it. "Did…" He hesitated, clearing out the husk in his voice. "Did the girl give you something for your hair too? You'd tied it back…" He thought back, trying to remember if he'd given the change much thought at the time. Still practical but much softer. No, he'd had a crowd of Ventu behind him to herald and she'd been all business. Had put a demand for his tricorder before greetings.

The flame of her blush cooled a little at the factual question. "No." She replied. Although the girl would've done, if she'd had the chance, for certain. "When I fell…" His gaze widened in concern and she gave his shoulder an instinctive squeeze of reassurance. "I lost my tricorder, as you know." They exchanged a smirk as her memory followed the same path his had done. "My hair was knocked loose, but my biosuit had ripped at the sleeve so I used that…"

"Wait, doesn't the Doctor claim those suits are indestructible?"

"He always adds a 'practically' to that assertion." She told him wryly, making him laugh.

"Oh well then, he's covered in terms of blame." Chakotay was amused, but his impatience with the Doctor still shone though.

"No…" Seven argued playfully, "I don't believe so." She cast a glance down at her feet, now toe to toe with his. "Since he has always claimed these shoes were sensible as well as fashionable. I will not be wearing the on away missions again. To ensure I can function on beautiful forested worlds as well as at conferences."

"Okay, I deserved that. Will this become a running joke between us?" he teased.

Seven's cheeks warmed again. Blushing seemed to be a reaction she'd couldn't control tonight. Around him. "I said it was beautiful, and conferences are generally…far from impressive."

"Oh, so I was right then?" She'd lowered her head towards him. Her hair was tickling his jaw and throat. Pride rose within him, that she'd come that close. It was like a fluttering butterfly had settled on him.

"As I have already conceded." She reminded him in a murmur. Goosebumps rippled up his skin.

"Multiple times." He agreed with a chuckle, looking down at her with affection. "Let me enjoy my moment."

"I am." Her forehead was mere millimetres from his clavicle, she didn't want to calculate just too close… A deep breath made her head foggy with the light spice of his cologne, then his skin underneath. Dangerously foggy. A shiver ran up her spine. Almost painful. Failsafe. She jerked, brought her face back almost level with his. Immediately she realised she'd overreacted. Not the failsafe. Yet.

Chakotay watched her gulp nervously, her expression anxious then sheepish. He looked away, gave her time to compose herself. The floor had been emptying around them. "I've think we've outlasted everyone." He remarked.

"We shouldn't miss Neelix's buffet, he would be disappointed."

"Right." Chakotay agreed. Though he doubted Neelix would protest too much. "Can I end our dance with a special twist?"

Seven's face relaxed at his mischievous tone. "Since I am not pregnant, I will be fine. You may proceed."

"Okay then, if you're sure?" he teased.

"Yes, I…" She'd already braced herself for the spin, but instead the warm weight of his arm coiled firm around her back. His strong muscles felt prominent as her own legs went weak. Vertigo seemed to be striking her before the movement had begun. She was falling, tilting… A surprised gasp broke from her lips, followed by stunned, exhilarated laughter. "This…this is not a spin!"

"No, it's a dip." Chakotay informed her slyly as he leaned down to her, "I never said I was going to spin you, did I?"

"No…no you did not." Seven conceded. His face was mere centimetres from hers, giving her full view of that impish grin. A grin that deserved to be kissed off for playing like this… Her own smile broadened traitorously at that impossible, irrepressible thought. The flush that rose in competition to it, unbeknownst to her, actually set off the smile even more.

Chakotay of course, knew very well. He'd already held the dip a few beats too long, but he couldn't care less. Not with her hair trailing close to the floor. With her face lit up like that, eyes sparkling with stunned enjoyment that seemed so new to her. Laughter ringing out with that shining smile. He'd helped her feel like that… "The surprise is what makes it." He said in a low voice.

Seven exhaled, nibbling her lips. "You're right." She breathed, another soft laugh breaking free as he brought her upright. For a split second her hands splayed on his chest. "Again."

Chakotay's smile turned lopsided, even as a chuckle rose deep out of his chest. "I guess we should quit while I'm ahead then." He replied. Reluctance clung to every note of his voice and every line of his body.

"Yes." Seven agreed, blinking at him before her usual short nod. If there had been a spell cast, a malfunction underway, it was passing. Self-awareness rolled back in, but it didn't quite overwhelm now. Her hand remained in his.

* * *

Vorik's elongated brows drew down as he neatly set down two cocktail glasses from the tray balanced on his shoulder. "Your 'Sex on the Beach' Captain." He stated in a clipped tone, "And your 'Between the Sheets' Mr Neelix."

"Why thank you Mr Vorik, just what I needed!" Kathryn exclaimed, uttering an exaggerated and throaty sigh of pleasure as she took a sip, watching the young Vulcan's face stiffen further with amusement.

"Everyone needs a little guilty pleasure." Neelix joined in with a beatific grin at Vorik.

Vorik's lip curled in distaste. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

The adolescent in Kathryn was tempted to tell him to follow it up with a 'Screaming Orgasm' but the memory of said adolescent puking up all that coffee cream alcoholic deliciousness onto her father's dress shoes while her father wore an expression pretty much identical to Vorik's, made her keep the joke to herself. "Not for the moment, Ensign." Vorik's shoulders relaxed at the dismissal and in one clean turn he was marching away. Kathryn chuckled, "Neelix…I think Vorik is a little sensitive for bartending duty, and judgemental."

"Oh no, he wanted to help!" Neelix assured her, "Although he didn't exactly volunteer for the bar…" He shrugged at her pointed look, "Handling alcohol responsibly requires a little logic and sobriety!"

"Yes, I suppose it does!" she laughed. Well, with some unconventional bartending aside, you and Tom have really outdone yourselves tonight Neelix, truly." She hadn't thrown herself into the thick of it quite yet, but the enthused buzz of her crew around her, the opportunity to sit back and take in their happy bonding, would bring her higher than cocktails ever could.

"This is the first time everyone has really felt at home and ready to let their hair down since Quarra." Neelix confided, taking a seat at her table. "As Morale Officer it's wonderful to see, and anyway, a little party is the least we could do to celebrate Commander Chakotay's and Seven's return…" He trailed off, springing to his feet and gesticulating wildly. "There they are now!" he enthused, "Chakotay! Seven! Over here!"

They stopped mid-stride as one, then a split second later turned together and moved smoothly towards them. Seven slackened the interlacing of their fingers to the limit as they approached, put almost an arm's length between them as they reached the table, but at the same time didn't let him go. "Good evening Captain."

"Good evening!" Kathryn replied, her own smile widening in response to Seven's rare natural one. "You're having fun?" She meant it more a surprised statement, but it left her mouth as a question.

Seven blinked, but in the next moment seemed to have come to a calm decision. "Yes, I am." She confirmed simply.

Kathryn had half been expecting, despite all the visual evidence to the contrary, a deflection from Seven. A placation that was also a quiet plea to leave. Not tonight. "I can see that." She enthused, beaming her encouragement as Neelix also gave a happy chuckle. "You look…happy Seven." She concluded softly. She was certain of it for once, she realised, with both guilt and relief. "What have you been up to?" She took in their flushed faces, "Something a little more active that I have I think!" she laughed, raising her glass.

"A Starship Captain deserves a chance to put her feet up!" Neelix argued solicitously.

"We've been dancing." Chakotay spoke up quietly, focused on Seven out the corner of his eye.

"You can dance?" Kathryn asked with an incredulous chuckle, quirking a teasing brow at her First Officer.

Seven's face fell slightly but she maintained a steady tone with a glance at Chakotay. "I can now."

"I was asking Chakotay, Seven." Kathryn told her quickly with an apologetic smile, giving her protégé's free hand a reassuring pat. " _You_ can do whatever you set your mind to. Chakotay on the other hand…"

Seven exhaled, then smiled at the Captain. "In that case, he can dance now too." She answered, flashing a smirk at Chakotay, who snorted.

"I've improved tonight, I'll admit it." He conceded, laughing. His face softened as he looked at Seven, "Thank you Seven."

She ducked her head once more, doubly aware of her blush in front of the Captain. "No thanks are necessary." She mumbled.

"Seven…" Neelix jumped in, astute as ever. "I'd be grateful if you could taste something for me before I serve up the whole tray to the crew. It's a new recipe, give me your opinion as a fellow chef…" He whipped out a cookie, tenderly wrapped in a napkin. "Take a seat first though, of course."

"Looks like he's moved on from popcorn." Chakotay murmured to Seven. She gave a bright laugh, leaning back into him. She hesitated, drew back again, as he pulled out the chair beside the Captain for her but she decided it was better not to ignore the courtesy. Not when she felt so spent, though whether it was physically or emotionally she didn't wish to analyse.

"Of course, Mr Neelix." She agreed, carefully taking the cookie from him while fighting the rise of her brow.

"We'll just need to wait for mass release Kathryn…" Chakotay joked as he leaned on the back of Seven's chair. Seven snorted, taking the hint and breaking the cookie before unselfconsciously passing one half back to him.

He popped it in his mouth in one go. "Mm, it's good Neelix."

Seven belatedly offered Kathryn another bit, and both women nibbled more delicately. They shared a smile before turning to Neelix. "Chakotay is correct, it's very tasty. The crew will enjoy them."

"I agree." The Captain added, "The perfect aperitif or small dessert."

"Well then, I'll send a plate to this table when I serve them up…after the savoury bites of course. Drinks though, Seven, another virgin strawberry piña colada? And a beer Chakotay?" Neelix paused, remembering, "Unless you'd rather have glasses for your toast?"

"Uh, well…"

But Kathryn had already latched onto the idea, her eyes bright with curiosity. "A toast?"

Chakotay's chuckle started awkwardly, lightening as he caught Seven's smirk. "Okay, okay, maybe you were right…"

Kathryn turned her enquiring gaze on Seven, brows raised. "Right about what?"

"I advised him to prepare for his toast."

"And he procrastinated?" Kathryn clicked her tongue teasingly, "Shocking, Commander."

"He _has_ been consistently occupied all night." Seven defended with a gentle smile towards Chakotay. With her. Very consistently. He'd been with her throughout the party. Other than dancing with B'Elanna, they'd been together. Had he been denying himself the chance to properly socialise all night for her benefit? She swallowed and stiffened in her seat. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. He'd agreed to take her to the party, but had he intended to attend to her as he had? It was a lot to ask… She shoved down the familiar social anxiety with unusual ferocity. No. She hadn't been misreading the situation. Chakotay was enjoying himself, and her company. As she was his. He was also a grown man, if he'd wanted to go and enjoy the party with others, he would have.

"Still…" The Captain continued, "…a good First Officer should keep their promises."

"It was a _suggestion_ you didn't know about two minutes ago!" Chakotay laughed.

"Oh, come on Chakotay…" Kathryn started with exaggerated pleading, "…take the speechmaking duty off my hands for once! It's your party!" She looked to Seven for help, "I'm sure Seven hasn't even had the chance to try your Antarian cider, and whatever you're claiming now, you must have a doozy of a toast in your back pocket if you risked someone finding the mysterious hiding spot…"

"Yes, very mysterious." Seven's smirk had returned, "And I can confirm that I have never tasted the beverage."

"I think that's about to change." Neelix assured her, "I'll go and make sure proper glasses are being served…" He hesitated, glancing around, "Seven, didn't you have the bottle for safekeeping?"

"I did." Seven confirmed, "I left it with Icheb when Tom convinced me to dance."

"Icheb's here?" Chakotay was pleasantly surprised, and Kathryn was equally happy.

"Some of the crewmembers with whom he has been discussing his interest in the Academy convinced him to attend." Seven replied, smiling. Her gaze made a quick, teasing flick to Chakotay. "I thought you would consider him a 'safe pair of hands'."

He winked at her, a laugh rumbling in his chest. "You know I do."

"He's a good boy." Kathryn told Seven sincerely, watching her own protégé's face glow with pride. "I'd be lucky to have him as an officer if that's what he decides." There weren't any other choices on Voyager's journey, the only one that had presented itself to Icheb was to join the Wysanti with the other children, but she wouldn't think of that now. Anyone who spent any time with Icheb knew that his goal of joining Starfleet was genuine, not to mention ambitious.

"We all will be." Neelix agreed, "But right now he's the teenager with the future of Chakotay's promised toast in his hands. I'll go and get him."

As they watched him leave, Seven recalled another promise. She moved forward in her seat, blue eyes fixing unblinkingly on the Captain. "Mr Neelix has recruited the Commander and I to assist him with a cooking class."

"I'm glad you're picking that back up Seven, they were such a great distraction just after Quarra…" Kathryn trailed off, as she tended to do when Quarra came up. Again, she threw a curious glance Chakotay's way. "Both of you?"

He answered with a good-natured shrug. "Seven might do more of her share of the assisting and I'll do more of the learning. Someone needs to make the attendees feel good about their cooking, why not me?"

"You exaggerate your failings." Seven cut in dismissively. "We will be teaching a vegetarian dish, therefore Chakotay's involvement is appropriate."

"I'm sure it is." Kathryn assured her indulgently, while flashing her First Officer a wry look. "Good luck with it."

Chakotay could see from the glint in Seven's eyes, the set of her shoulders, what she intended to do. He considered stopping her, he'd been mostly serious when he'd told her the direct route didn't tend to work with the Captain, but he quickly decided to sit back and see. She would've carried on regardless anyway. "I thought you could attend." Seven said without preamble, only surprising the Captain.

"Oh Seven, I don't really have time for…"

"You advise me to _make time_ on a regular basis." Seven reminded her.

Kathryn didn't have an immediate reply to that one. "I realise that." She conceded with a slight smile that admitted she'd been caught. She regrouped quickly. "If you're worried about how I handled dinner, you're welcome to help me out sometimes…" Her eyes turned puppy dog.

Seven hesitated, wrong footed. "I will attend the dinners on occasion if you wish…" She cast a shy glance at Chakotay, who was visibly fighting a broad smile.

"Good then." Kathryn had a note of triumph in her voice. "And really, it's my replicator's fault…"

That brought Seven back to battle. "Whatever…malfunction your replicator may be harbouring; the class would equip you to cook without it. Such a lesson would be an efficient use of your time."

Kathryn chuckled, "I suppose it would be." She inclined her head, "You're right Seven."

"If the replicators ever go out…" Chakotay grinned at Seven's soft laugh. They'd wrap themselves in her blanket and watch Kathryn grumble… "That settles it then. We'll see you there." His tone was uncharacteristically breezy. He'd deprived immense enjoyment from Kathryn being faced with an even more relentless force of nature than she was.

"You will." She agreed with good grace, "Neelix won't believe this…"

"Won't believe what?" Neelix prompted as he reappeared with Icheb on his heels.

"The Captain is going to attend the cooking class the Commander and I are assisting you with." Seven filled him in.

"That's _wonderful_ news!" Neelix enthused, the glasses in his hands clinking. He turned his proud smile on Seven and Chakotay, chuckling to himself.

"Why do I have a feeling I've been ganged up on?" Kathryn remarked in joking suspicion.

"No more than I have about this toast!" Chakotay threw back before nodding to the very serious looking Icheb. He was cradling the entrusted bottle. "You've been keeping it safe for me, Icheb?"

"As ever Commander." Icheb replied dryly. "I decided it would be wiser to give you the bottle myself." He held it out smartly.

Neelix's expression was wounded. "He doesn't trust me…"

"He was keeping his word." Chakotay corrected, "Why don't you uncork it for me Icheb?"

Obediently, and in one clean movement, Icheb opened the bottle with a satisfying pop. "What ratio would you like to follow in serving Commander? There isn't enough for everyone…"

"Anyone without a drink, or as many as you can." Chakotay took the room in at a glance. It was growing even busier. The music was back in full swing for those new arrivals not yet eating. "But this table first."

Seven took the glass Neelix promptly offered, seeing Icheb's look of surprise. "You may partake if you wish Icheb, within reason, as I am." Puffing up a little at the permission, Icheb took each glass in turn, leaving one for himself before plunging into the crowd with the bottle.

Chakotay leaned over Seven's shoulder as her eyes followed her boy. "You proved me wrong?"

She turned her head to him slightly. "In regards to what?"

"It turns out the Captain _can_ just be asked." She could sense his smile near her ear. "I'll need to persevere with that after all."

"Or perhaps you will require me to ask on your behalf." Seven replied archly, lips curving up as he hid a snorting laugh from the Captain, who was being conveniently distracted by Neelix, behind his hand. "But I believe you will be fine."

"I reserve the right to ask you…" Seven's hand suddenly brushed his arm, stopping him in his track.

"I think Icheb has successfully disseminated your bottle."

"Already?" Chakotay straightened and lifted his glass from the table. "Okay, a toast it is." He took a deep breath, jumping then relaxing when Seven gently touched his arm again, holding her hand there a little longer in reassurance. The smile he sent out across the room was attention grabbing before he even spoke, "I'd like to make a toast." He made a sheepish noise in the back of his throat as the room quickly fell almost silence. The music was turned down, the conversation dropping to a whispering hum as all eyes turned on him. One of the effects of being First Officer for so long was that everyone tuned into his voice when they needed to. "It won't be long, we're having a party here after all…" A few rough, maybe drunken, cheers broke out at that before they were shushed. "I'd like to thank first of all Tom, Neelix and everyone else involved in setting up the party tonight and keeping us fed and watered…" A more general cheer went up. "Second of all, I know Seven and I are grateful for all the efforts to get us back…"

Clapping and whoops burst out now. "Glad to have you back!" Several voices called out, he recognised some Maquis among them, and Icheb.

"I also know you'll want the juicy details…" Whistling and a chorus of 'oohhs' joined the whooping. "…but you'll just need to download our reports for that." The groaning laughter that rolled over him finally helped him remember why he liked making toasts. "I will tell you all this though." He continued, serious now. "While we originally thought that our crash was misfortune, we both soon learned what a gift it was." He let his gaze wander back to Seven, absorbed her quiet smile. "We were allowed to know a people that no outsider has known for centuries; to break bread with them, to see their way of life. They were a simple, clean-living people. Unburdened by the weight of technology. A society allowed to develop without the outside interference of more advanced civilisations. A people not unlike the ancestors of the races of the Federation. I won't be forgetting them anytime soon, and it reinforced the importance of our Prime Directive." There was a quiet murmur of agreement. "But also that we're right to explore. With that directive in mind, we can still learn so much, as advanced as we like to think we are. No more so than out here, in the Delta Quadrant. We've had our share of misfortune…" He held the gazes of everyone around him, "…but we've gained the gifts too; and I still believe we'll get to take them all back to the Alpha Quadrant one day…" A ragged roar of emotion rose up from the crew; one too strong to hold words. He raised his glass respectfully, "To our gifts, and making the most of them."

"To making the most of it!" The crew toasted as one. Beer, wine, cocktails, those rarefied glasses of his cider, were all brought up to lips, some smiling, some quivering. Several sets of eyes were gleaming with possibility, others were misty with warring emotions.

"Well said, Commander." The Captain said thickly, blinking furiously for a few seconds as she brought her glass to lips turned with a wistful smile. She forced her tone to lighten, "I should pass that duty onto you more often."

"Oh no, I'm happy for you to take back the baton." He was drawn back to Seven as if she were pulling him in, and indeed her eyes, slightly hooded as she savoured her drink, were on him. "Do you like it?"

The sweet tang of the drink was close enough to the apples of Earth that it certainly fit the name cider, and the alcoholic note was much smoother than her very limited experience had warned her to expect. More of a spice, an extra layer of flavour, than a sense obliterating burn. She swallowed slowly, preferring to mull over the taste than her thoughts. The toast had made her emotional. Not exactly like the crew, but she felt a rare connection with them all the same. Getting back to Earth didn't feel like a duty she owed the crew tonight. And maybe she was finally starting to appreciate the Delta Quadrant as a benign explorer, not as a drone intent on assimilation or someone looking for atonement. As for making the most of the gifts she'd been given, well… She sighed, realising with a tiny wince of embarrassment that Chakotay had been speaking to her. "It is a significant improvement on beer."

She hated how flippant that sounded, when she should've been remarking on the eloquence of his speech; but Chakotay's rich laugh blew the embarrassment away. "I'm glad you think it's worth all the secrecy!"

"I do." She assured him before her smile became tremulous. "Thank you for including me in your words. You expressed my sentiment concerning the Ventu much more effectively than I would have."

Chakotay regarded her in silence for a moment. What Seven had done for the Ventu spoke louder than words could. His conviction that they should be left alone had come quite easily to him, he'd been raised on such sentiments, but for Seven to reject the possible benefits of technology and 'civilisation' for people she cared about was harder. "Don't sell yourself short." He told her quietly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She glanced down at their hands and he smiled at her.

Seven looked around them, giving a blink and you'd miss it shrug as her lips twisted wryly. "I do not believe that has been an issue, since I aim for perfection." Relief shot through her as he laughed again. She didn't want his sympathy, she'd been trying to compliment him and he'd spun it around onto her somehow.

Kathryn smiled at them, "I think I'll send the two of you on more away missions together, it's worked out well." She gave a slight grimace, reaching out for them, an instinct to check they really were both here and intact. "Thankfully. Don't scare me like that again."

"We do not intend to." Seven reassured her, equally serious. The disloyal thought that Voyager and its crew rarely intended to find itself in danger, and when it did it tended to be part of a calculated risk on the Captain's part, occurred to her and she guiltily looked to Chakotay to distract herself from it. "We already have an arrangement in place for future away missions." Chakotay's brows shot up at that. Was she really… He gave a wicked laugh, which of course only made Kathryn more intrigued. She was missing a joke after all.

"Oh?" She probed, leaning inquisitively forward, chin in hand. "Do tell. Unless you just mean that you want to pilot any shuttles from now on, Seven." She snickered.

Seven pretended to consider, cocking her head a fraction at Chakotay. "Perhaps." She nibbled her lip as they both laughed, blood rushing to her face as Chakotay caught her eye. His were gleaming. It made her realise how coy that answer sounded. Where had her caution gone?

"Seven!"

Naomi Wildman's excited greeting came at just the right time; she needed a moment, likely several, to compose herself. Her head whipped around to see the young girl waving at her by Ensign Wildman's side. "Excuse me." She hardly waited for the Captain's approving nod before she rose from the table and made a beeline for her friend.

"I was serious before Chakotay, this was good for her." Kathryn said quietly, "Thank you for that."

Chakotay pulled his eyes away from watching Seven interact with Naomi. Given the obvious enthusiasm on Naomi's face as she chatted rapid fire, and Seven's patient nods interspersed with shy smiles as the girl gestured up at her hair, Seven's new look had been given the seal of approval. "All of the good decisions Seven made down there were her own." He told Kathryn, not quite able to keep a sharp note out of his voice. "I don't get thanks for that, and nor should I."

Kathryn's brow furrowed a little with impatience. He was missing her point, wilfully she thought. "I just want her to be encouraged…"

Chakotay quirked a brow. "You encourage her plenty Kathryn." He reminded her, not unkindly.

"Oh, she made that pretty clear, didn't she?" Kathryn laughed, "That's exactly my point. She needs people other than me and the Doctor to push her, she can tune us out by now. Someone a little more distant, detached from her development."

He was very aware of the surge of annoyance that flooded him at that, heated to boiling point by the current of hurt underneath it. All of which rubbed against the hard truth that on some level Kathryn was right. He never tried to nurture Seven's humanity like Kathryn or the Doctor had. He'd doubted how much there was, despite a glimpse of Annika Hansen that was more than Kathryn had ever been able to glean from records. Even when the trust had developed, and it had taken more selfless acts on Seven's part than he wanted to admit now to earn that, the…distance Kathryn spoke of had been there. Then again, didn't that exist with most of the crew? Professional cordiality was a mark of his management style here, closeness was relative. Only some of the Maquis perhaps, knew him without that veneer. Seven hadn't been singled out for years. He _needed_ that professionalism. He'd lost all perspective during the Seska debacle and building up his self-respect again had been a hard road. He sighed. Seven had confided in him occasionally, sought his advice or at least heard him out when he offered it, but thinking about it now he considered that her just wanting to speak to someone outside the claustrophobic circle of the Captain and the Doctor around her. "I enjoy spending time with her…" He said, almost to herself.

"Good, because it seems like she'll be joining us for dinner more often than not." Kathryn replied good-humouredly. "Speaking of that, maybe I should expand dinner a little. I've always just had you or Tuvok individually to discuss ship's matters, but there's no reason why they can't be more social, at least some of the time…" Her wondering aloud became more confident as she grew attached to the new idea. "I'd like to spend some quality time with Tom and B'Elanna before the baby arrives, and Harry is always good to be around. The Doctor now, he's always implying he doesn't get enough attention…"

Chakotay had been nodding along absently, only thinking that Seven would probably be expected to cater these events, but he did grimace at the mention of the Doctor. "He doesn't eat…"

"Don't pout Chakotay, your face might stick that way." Kathryn teased, "I know you can find the Doctor…trying sometimes." She conceded with a sigh, "But his photonic heart is in the right place. He'd be hurt if we didn't include him."

"Yeah, I know." Chakotay agreed, "Invite whoever you want, it's a great idea." He offered her a genuine smile, hoping that Kathryn would pursue it. She isolated herself too much. He understood why, but that didn't mean it was a good decision. "You will attend the cooking glass, right?"

"Oh, ye of little faith! I'll need to if I'm going to host all these dinners, even if Seven is willing to lend a hand…" She frowned thoughtfully, "Next time we manage to wrangle some shore leave on a nice world, I'll order her to go. This proved that being off Voyager is good for her. There will be no must do piece of work found at the last minute…"

Chakotay considered telling her that ordering Seven to do things with part of the problem, but as he saw Seven start to return to the table he wondered what he thought the problem was. Not with Seven. "I could always use some shore leave." He stood up from the table, going to Seven in a few easy strides.

Kathryn watched him clasp both Seven's hands. She couldn't hear what he said to her, but Seven's face lighting up in response, her radiant smile, was unmissable. Decision apparently made, they moved back onto the dancefloor.

* * *

"I'm just saying it would've been fun is all…" Chakotay continued to argue, laughing, as they walked out of the turbolift and down the corridor.

Seven arched her eyebrow at him. "It wasn't sufficient fun to watch the Captain, without having to take the risk of humiliating ourselves?"

"Oh, it was _definitely_ fun to watch the Captain!" Chakotay assured her, matching her smirk. "But watching you…"

"Is not going to happen." Seven stated definitively. "I may have indulged Mr Paris with his novelty forms of dance…"

"And me." He added.

Her face softened. "No, I believe you followed convention." If dancing with her could ever be considered conventional. She recovered, holding her head high again. "But I have no intention of ever performing the 'limbo'."

"I would've said the same about the Captain." Chakotay pointed out with an incredulous chuckle. "And I'd bet on you, with your superior Borg physiology…"

Seven smirked at the tease and countered it. "Actually, the reinforced nature of my spine compromises its flexibility somewhat." She saw his expression falter, concern replacing humour, and regretted making the point. "However, if gambling was _permitted_ on board…" Chakotay snorted and rolled his eyes, caught out. "…I would bet on either Ensign Jurot or Crewman Jor, their Betazoid heritage is in their favour since that species has the bone density and muscle elasticity…" She stopped herself, though Chakotay still looked engaged. There was no need to be pedantic. "Also Lieutenant Torres, when she is no longer pregnant of course."

Chakotay guffawed at that. "I'll let her know about your vote of confidence at the next party."

"Please don't." She was only half joking.

"I will, you did say it so it's not my fault if I happen to remember…"

"I would seek you out." Seven warned as the Cargo Bay's doors swept open.

"Good. Or we might already be at the party together."

Seven's cheeks turned rosy once more, a reaction that caught his eye every time. "Perhaps."

He wanted to counter with 'Definitely'. It was on the tip of his tongue in fact, but he'd learned to read her signals, and she'd just stiffened self-consciously. It wouldn't do any good too push too hard. To be either hurtfully flippant or dauntingly intense. Take the dancing; their first dance had surprised her, the second flattered, a third would've frightened. Who was he kidding? It would've scared him too, just a little. He followed her skittish gaze and realised he'd just barged into the Cargo Bay after her. Could you really 'barge' into a Cargo Bay? Maybe not, but he wouldn't just barge into a woman's quarters, and this Cargo Bay _was_ the closest thing she had…

"Is there something wrong?"

Seven's tentative question jolted him out of his reverie. He saw from her face that she was preparing for an affirmative answer and he had to swallow a lump of guilt as he gave her his most earnest smile. Damn him, for breaking their rhythm. Conversation had been flowing with improbable ease. "Nothing Seven. I was just…thinking." Very eloquent, Chakotay.

He could see Seven debating whether to pry. Which endeared her to him more. Everyone else, barring Tuvok, wouldn't have hesitated with their well-meaning curiosity. "About what?"

"I think I will go ahead with that anthropological paper." Wherever that had come from, he was glad of it. "Want to help me?"

Seven blinked, "I would give you any assistance, but I am uncertain as to what I could offer." She answered him honestly, "I am hardly qualified for such…"

"You have access to so much information on countless species." He reminded her.

She grimaced, "Not by methods which would be palatable to any researcher of merit."

Chakotay couldn't deny that exactly, but her self-chastisement wasn't fair either. "No." He conceded, "And I know the Borg don't tend to declare what I'd be interested in relevant either, but what they have gathered could still be useful, point anyone is so many new directions…" He let that point sit with her, adding what he considered the most important one, "Anyway, it's _your_ perspective I'd like, not the Collective's."

Seven felt herself relax, glad that he thought there was distinction there. Although rationally, of course there was. "Well, if that is what you require, a challenge to your own perspective, I will offer mine." His smile roused her again. "We could also prepare for the cooking class while we discuss your project." She suggested, "We need to decide which recipe to teach."

"Right." Chakotay gave a sheepish chuckle, "I won't be much help there beyond tasting…"

"That will suffice." She assured him, though not without the slightest roll of her eyes.

"So I get to try your recipes while we talk about the Ventu and anthropological theory?"

Seven nodded, "Yes, if that is an acceptable plan?"

He beamed at her. "It's more than acceptable, it's…perfect." Emboldened by her obvious pleasure, he pushed. "Tomorrow in the Mess Hall?"

"Tomorrow?" Seven echoed, searching his face. "The cooking class is not until Wednesday…"

Four days. They could do a lot in four days. "The more time we have the better, right?"

Seven hesitated for only a beat. "Indeed. Tomorrow it is."

It wasn't until he heard his exhale that Chakotay realised he'd been holding his breath. "Great. We'll have fun. Just like tonight…"

"I wanted to thank you for that." Déjà vu struck as she said that of course but it was what she did in the next instant that would stick with him. She leaned in, her lips ghosting over his cheek in a soft peck. She didn't give him a chance to react before retreating back a step. If not for the thudding of her heart intensifying the tingle of where her lips had just been, however briefly, he would've wondered if he'd imagined it. Not that a chaste peck of gratitude was the first thing his imagination was throwing up in regards of Seven of Nine right now…

"Seven…"

Seven felt chilled and hot by turns and unbeknownst to her, her complexion flooding pink before draining to white in a cycle. She bit the tip of her tongue to stop it running over her trembling lips as she cut him off in a rush. "I would not have attended the party…at least not for such a significant amount of time, without your presence…" She stopped just short of pouring out her frantic thoughts. That cider must've intoxicated her after all, or she'd misunderstood the Doctor's class on greetings and goodbyes that she couldn't even recall right now. The impulse to offer that gesture, that kiss, hadn't even come from the Doctor's textbooks and she knew it…

"You don't need to thank me Seven." Chakotay interrupted gently, "Some parties are better than others, and that was one of the best." His own voice shook a little, "Your…presence was part of that for me." Her skittish eyes, smoky blue in the dimness of the Cargo Bay, met his at that and he relaxed again. He was touched, proud, that she'd admitted so much, and despite what he'd said he was affected by her thanks.

"I'm glad." Surprised too. Shaken.

Chakotay could see that she was withdrawing from him; and he'd let her, for now. She always came back and that was worth the wait. Still, he knew he had to reinforce things too. "I'll see you tomorrow then? For lunch?" He smiled at the prospect.

Another, longer hesitation from her. "Yes." She finally confirmed.

"Alright then." Impulse totally decimated his own advice. His hand went to her shoulder and his lips to her cheek. She felt him smile against her skin before he pulled smoothly back. "Goodnight Seven."

She was relieved he turned away from her, towards the door. It allowed her to breathe. "Goodnight." He smiled at her over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of that smile of hers to keep with him as he left.

* * *

 **A/n: Please review! Thanks for reading! :)**

 **Story Recommendations: Now that this story is complete, I'll direct you onto some great new chapters and stories! TheLadyMage not only updated 'Happenstance' with a great new chapter, she posted a new story, that I can tell you is going to be amazing throughout, called 'What We Need'. The always insightful Anniexus has also posted a new story, with nine great chapters so far, called 'After the Unimatrix'.**


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